


good to me

by cherrychoke



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Character, Banter, Childhood Friends, Crying, Denial of Feelings, Discussion of Death, Discussion of Illness/Poisoning, Enemies to Lovers, Friendship, Impersonation, Kissing, M/M, Mild Blood and Injury, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Nymphs - Freeform, Slow Burn, War, Warzone Combats, Worldbuilding, discussion of death of a parent, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrychoke/pseuds/cherrychoke
Summary: Junmyeon’s plans are ruined by circumstances and Jongdae, like always. But maybe it’s for the best.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Junmyeon | Suho
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46
Collections: Shall we Chen? Fictional Fest First Round





	good to me

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt Number #SWC137]
> 
>  **TWs** : discussion of death of a parent, war
> 
> phew, this one was fun to write, i hope you'll enjoy reading it as well. i cried thrice because of this OTL it has been a while since i've written something this long, and i hope all the tags don't scare you this fic is mostly harmless i think /.\ constructive criticism is welcome! ^^ and the title is svt's song "good to me" (fun thing: after finishing the fic, there's a surprise waiting for you if you check out "good to me"s lyrics/english translation!!!!!)
> 
> (the part where there's discussion of death and illness is marked with a single * in the middle, so you can brace yourself/skim over it if you're uncomfortable!)
> 
> (and a HUGE thank you to my beta Ji, i owe them my soul for their help ;;)

‘You’re a King now’ seems to be everyone’s excuse for taking things away from him. Junmyeon can no longer hop on water and splash it at people around him. 

“You’re a King now, you can’t be childish.”

He tries to change his signature and stamps on the official letters, experiment with the looks, and he’s a disapproving tsk from anyone around him.

“Don’t change your signature, you’re a King now, it needs to be constant for confidence purposes.”

He doesn’t get to flutter his wings in anger, or stomp his feet, or groan at a stupidly long letter sent by someone.

“Stop being so childish, you’re a King!”

All of those coming from Jongin, someone who cried because he didn’t want to learn combat, makes it worse. His Nymph pride shatters every time he catches Jongin’s disapproving looks, but he’s too close to Jongin to stay annoyed at him. He considers Jongin his younger brother, dotes on him so much because he doesn’t like being an only child. Jongin doesn’t mean to hurt him with those looks and words, he’s just doing what was taught to him in the training. A single bright smile from Jongin melts him, and he lets Jongin bury under the covers with him.

“Are you going to lecture me about this later?” Junmyeon asks as Jongin rests his head on the water Nymph’s chest. “Because I don’t want to hear it. Leave me alone right now.”

“I’m not Jongin The King’s Aid right now,” Jongin giggles. “I’m Jongin The Little Nymph.”

“You’re only one year younger than me, you’re not little.” The King rolls his eyes, scoffing. “If I’m a King now, you’re my Aid and you need to behave too.”

“Oh yeah?” Jongin looks up at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Who will you complain to, King? Your father? Your mother?”

“I’ll use my power,” Junmyeon huffs. He summons a big drop of water near Jongin’s ear, the size of the earring Jongin is wearing. “Apologize right now or this drop goes straight into your ear.”

Jongin huffs and scoffs in response, tries to push his limits without the drop going into his ear. They could play-fight over this, but Jongin dislikes physical fights (even the playful ones). Junmyeon is glad he’s used to all of Jongin’s cute antics.

He almost lets it drop, but there’s a knock on his door, and Jongin is scrambling out of the bed to get the door. He moves the drop out of the window and looks up at the door, Jongin is whispering with a guard, the door barely open. The guard passes him a scroll, bows before leaving.

“The Ball invite, from Queen Solar,” Jongin says, holding up the scroll. “It came a few minutes ago, the messenger is waiting for your reply.”

“Of course I’m going,” Junmyeon sits up, the blanket heavy on his shoulders. “It’s a once in a decade thing, I can’t miss it.”

“The guard requested me to read it thoroughly.” Jongin makes the scroll hover on his hands, and walks up to him. He sits on the edge of the bed, facing the King. Junmyeon has always been jealous of Jongin’s powers as an Air Nymph. Air Nymphs may not have wings like others, but they don’t  _ need _ them — they can manipulate air in their own ways. 

He opens the scroll without even touching it, and reads it out for Junmyeon. It’s a standard invitation: they’ve mentioned the dress code, the important dates of the ten day celebration, gifts sent along with the invitation, and reminders about etiquette of the Ball. And finally, a list of other Rulers who have been invited.

“Oh,” Jongin stops reading at what Junmyeon assumes to be the very end, glances at Junmyeon nervously. “King Jongdae of Tigallop.”

Jongdae? Junmyeon really shouldn’t be surprised that Jongdae is invited. He’s a King too, after all, and his Kingdom is to the north of Ripth. But the mention of his name does nothing but boil Junmyeon’s blood, making his tucked wings perk up for a split second. He huffs a little, gestures for Jongin to continue. “Is that it?”

“Queen Moon of Feou,” Jongin closes the scroll back, and it finally lands on his palm softly. “That’s about it.”

“I’m glad Ruler Grey is coming to this one,” Junmyeon says. He really wants to avoid talking about Jongdae, especially to Jongin. He prefers Jongin The Little Nymph over Jongin His Aid every single time it’s about his past and his mischief. “They missed out on the last one, it was amazing.”

“And it was embarrassing for both Tigallop and Xeria,” Jongin says in a stern voice. Jongin The Aid can never truly leave, huh? He even glares at Junmyeon. “I can only hope nobody talks about you or King Jongdae this Ball.”

“We’re not princes anymore, Jongin,” Junmyeon grumbles. “Stop treating me like a child. We were young and didn’t know better.”

“It was only a decade ago. I could feel your anger when I mentioned his name.”

_ He dares show his face after betraying me like that, obviously I’m angry, _ Junmyeon thinks but he doesn’t say it out loud. Jongin is judging him enough. “When do we begin our journey?”

“Three weeks later,” Jongin slips the scroll into his little pocket. “I’ll start preparing as soon as the sun rises. Get some rest, Junmyeon.”

“You too, Jongin,” Junmyeon slumps onto the bed. Both of them know he probably won’t sleep as well as other nights, but they pretend that’s not something that happens to him. King Junmyeon lacking sleep because of a decade-long hatred towards another King (or a prince, during that time)? That never happens. “Good night.”

“There are two judgements waiting to be decided in tomorrow’s court,” Jongin reminds him. “Good night.”

The Little Nymph always adds “sweetest dreams, Your Majesty” like a sweetheart. The Aid just slams the door in King’s face.

***

“We’re leaving for Ripth in two days,” Jongin fusses over him, frowning and trying to move Junmyeon from where he’s sitting. The garden feels nice today, why can’t Jongin sit for a few minutes? “You have to re-check the gifts!”

“You know what the gifts are, Jongin, go check them yourself.” Junmyeon grabs the hand near him and tugs Jongin next to him. “It’s a nice day, the garden feels nice. Sit with me for a minute.”

Jongin sits next to him, but not without complaints. His frown doesn’t last long though. He looks relieved, finally sitting down and not running around must be a nice change, bringing his knees closer to his chest.

“I’m not looking forward to Ripth,” Junmyeon confesses. He’s determined to stay away from Jongdae this time, never talk to him, and have a peaceful time at the Ball. Jongin hums. “I want to run away. I don’t want to look at his face.”

“I’ll keep you away from you, if that helps.” Jongin shrugs. “But we can’t  _ not _ go. Maybe when you were a prince, learning acting and ridiculous things you heard of, but not now.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon knows he’s longing for something impossible, but after having a little taste of freedom as a prince, many things feel like a cage. Being a King is fun too, of course, he doesn’t need to conspire anymore, walk into his parents’ room at night to convince them to look at his plans. It’s directly to planning and execution, which is a thousand times easier with Jongin beside him. “I could beg my teacher to say I’m being punished and need to stay.”

Jongin laughs at that. “Your life before training always sounds too fun to be true.”

“If the teacher were alive, I would bring you to him and confirm it for you.” Junmyeon grins. He gets up, gestures for Jongin to do the same. The way he’s sitting makes the King think of the time sixteen-year old Jongin who cried on his bed, in the same position. Jongin still hates wars and physical fights, so Junmyeon takes the blame for the Aid’s lack of combat skills. Nobody dares to question a King anyway. “Time for gift checking.”

“But I just sat down,” Jongin whines, but takes the hand Junmyeon has offered anyway. The only difference is that he’s no longer training to be the King’s Aid and works diligently. Jongin can act like he’s sixteen again if he wants to. “The gifts are all packed, they need to be transferred to the carriages. The carriage and horses sent by Ripth are in good shape, they’re ready for journey.”

They start moving, Jongin catches him on the little information of everything — just enough to know everything’s just as he planned. The buffer work between courts is a huge relief from thinking about the bigger picture, he gets to focus on the smaller details to remind himself everything isn’t falling apart.

When they’re near the courtroom, in the little corridor only Jongin and Junmyeon are allowed to enter the courtroom through, Junmyeon stops in his tracks. He stands in front of the door, looks at Jongin, sulking. “I don’t want to go.”

“Your Majesty,” Jongin scowls. “The court needs to begin. We have important matters that need to be addressed.”

“But they always seem impossible to solve,” Junmyeon sulks more, crosses his arm over his chest childishly. “I don’t have the capacity to think of them right now.”

“You do,” Jongin pushes him aside, holds the strap required to pull the door open. “I’ll ask the cook to make your favourite dessert for dinner.”

“You’re bribing me.” Junmyeon grins, then enters the courtroom.

***

He wakes up at the crack of dawn on the day they leave for Ripth. The sky is beginning to turn lighter, the air is still cold but there’s a hint of warmth somewhere in the breeze. Perhaps it’s all the romance plays he learnt for his acting lessons, but he prefers night over morning. He opens the door of his room, still a little sleepy, finding Jongin in front of him, fully dressed and holding his luggage in both of his hands.

“I’m excited,” he beams, bouncing on his feet. “I’ve only read about these gatherings, I can’t wait to witness one.”

The excitement rubs off Junmyeon, making him poke the Aid’s cheek, grinning. “We aren’t leaving right now, Jongin.”

“I know, I’m just going to put this and your luggage in the carriage and finish up the last-minute work.”

There’s no stopping Jongin right now. He nods in response, parts ways from Jongin to become more awake and do his last-minute work too. 

***

The first night of the Ball always calls for a party. This Ball is a ten-day ceremony of peace among all the Reigns of their land; a way of expressing gratitude to their respective Gods for all the wars they’ve avoided, to pray for more peace, and to strengthen connections with each other. 

At least, that was what this Ball used to signify. It had a different name back then — “Tranquility Honouring” — its name didn’t change until Junmyeon was fifteen years old, attending this ceremony for the second time. Now, everyone looks forward to the first night’s party alone. Everything else is a part of important traditions that need to be followed.

The castle of Ripth is giant, the roof of each room is tall, with gorgeous chandeliers hung above their heads. All the walls have lamps on them, half a meter apart from each other, and no dark corner in sight. Attending this party isn’t necessary, but it’s considered rude if the absentee is a Ruler. 

Junmyeon’s blood boils under his skin when he notices the face among the crowd. It’s easy to pick him out anywhere — only because his face is something Junmyeon never plans on forgetting. His dark brown hair is styled in the same old boring way (combed thoroughly with oil to make it shiny, but the natural curls of his hair aren’t straightened), his lips stretched into an unbothered smile, and his robes — ugh, his robes are a dirty white and it makes him stand out even more.

“Stop glaring at the King of Tigallop,” Jongin whispers to him. “Greet everyone first, Your Highness.”

Junmyeon, begrudgingly, does that. He plasters a friendly smile on his face, greets everyone, and goes to greet Queen Solar, who accepts their gifts and welcomes him with a hug. Everyone is wearing their richest clothes. Junmyeon is wearing his black trousers, his cream blouse which has pretty lace on the collar, and heavy, dark blue robes with black and blue jewels on it. His black boots are simple, the only part of his entire outfit which doesn’t have expensive stones stuck on. Nobody wears their crowns during these ten days, and Junmyeon, like every time, uses this opportunity to style his hair up; not a single strand of hair touches his forehead. 

It’s all so formal (Junmyeon is used to it), but every time he greets an old friend he can’t stop thinking about how much better it was before. They didn’t need gifts or bows or a kiss on the back of their hand, or these extra robes as a symbol of richness. They just had to ditch their parents and run together to a place nobody could find them for at least three hours.

Queen Solar of Ripth clearly hates all the jewels stuck onto her coat under her robes, but she pretends to be okay. Ruler Wu of Qaco is pretending to enjoy conversations with whoever they’re surrounded by, both hands free. Their son must’ve ran away from the party. (He doesn’t have any friends of his age here and perhaps he’s tired of the pretense in the room.) Everyone is pretending, and so is Junmyeon, but—

A loud burst of laughter rips through the crowd of Rulers, very obvious as to who is so shameless as to disturb everyone like that.

King of Tigallop just has a pair of red ears now, waving at everyone apologetically. Junmyeon rolls his eyes. Of course he’s charming every new Ruler around him, doing Heaven knows what kind of magic to have every single ruler in the room look at him so…  _ fondly _ .

Junmyeon looks at Jongin with a frown, pretends to throw up in his mouth. “What do they see in him?”

“Whatever it is,” Jongin looks away from the King, swirls the cider in his glass. “You’re blind with your hatred.”

He almost says ‘ _ You’re supposed to be on my side’ _ again, but he controls his tongue. Jongin gives him a pointed look, clearly expecting those words, but Junmyeon just bumps their shoulders together and trudges to a corner. Jongin clears his throat to remind him that he can’t sit on the edge of the stairs and mope, so he decides to go upstairs instead.

It’s easy to forget when the castle is only visited once every decade, but Junmyeon remembers where this one leads to. A library. The one which he and  _ that _ person sneaked out into, to plan everything and come out with happy smiles, only to be betrayed in the same corridor the next day. The stairs go up and up, seemingly endless until they finally end. Climbing the stairs one by one with heavy robes jogs his memory, the little frown on Jongdae’s young face, the ache his heart felt when he said he’s not part of their grand scheme anymore.

He hears Jongin behind him, trying to catch up with him. Junmyeon pauses and looks at the Nymph. “Don’t tail me, I’m just going to the library.”

Jongin stops coming up behind him and grins. “Don’t do anything stupid!”

“I’m a King, stop thinking I’ll do anything stupid!” Junmyeon bites back, starting to get breathless now. “And you’re my Aid, respect me more!”

There’s a faint ‘whatever’ from downstairs in response. The stairs finally end and the corridor leading to the library comes to sight. It’s dark, the length of it illuminated by a single lamp hung halfway through the corridor. This darkness used to scare  _ him _ a lot — Junmyeon would be pushed in the front, and Jongdae clung onto Junmyeon’s arms because he’s a coward, won't use his powers of looking through the dark. He’d say, “Knowing I can see someone there makes it more scary.” Like that makes any sense.

Still, Junmyeon is gentle with his steps. Not because he thinks someone will attack him out of the darkness. It’s an old place, dusty and barely used since Queen Solar has gotten every book into a space with a lot more sunlight than this room gets. The door is not locked from the outside, just bolted. Junmyeon nudges the door inward, and it creaks loudly as it swings. He covers his ears, gritting his teeth through the squeak.

It’s similar to what he remembers, lit by only four lamps in each corner of the room. A single, small window on his left. There are still some books left, rarely used ones, Junmyeon assumes, but he could be wrong. If he gathers all the books, he’s sure he’ll have a huge pile in his arms. The room isn’t as dusty as he expected — the dust is a thin layer, invisible if he doesn’t check the parts of his robe that touch the floor.

He goes straight to the right-hand corner, the one behind the big, heavy wooden table. There’s a little gap in the lower shelves — broken pieces taken out but new ones aren’t installed (even now, Junmyeon notices) and the gap is big enough to let a grown person sleep comfortably there. Young Junmyeon and Jongdae sat there with crossed legs, a broken lamp, a big square of paper, and two pens to plan everything they wanted to do.

They planned on taking over three big Rulers with a single piece of paper, and it was foolproof too. If someone hadn’t backed off, they’d be ruling a lot more than their respective lands. Granted, Junmyeon currently is ruling an area bigger than his parents had (twice as big, he’s sure), but half of the world is definitely better than his current kingdom.

The gap is too dusty to sit in, so Junmyeon just sits in front of it instead. Jongin will deal with the dust on his robes. He stares at the gap for some reason, trying to imagine just how small he must be to fit in there again, with another person. He would have to shrink thrice overall to fit there, or maybe he’s overcompensating himself.

“Hello?” The door squeaks loudly again.

Junmyeon stands up quickly, finds Queen Moon. Her outfit is similar to his, but her robes are violet, flowers embroidered on them, and her pointy boots shimmer in light. Her long hair is put into a high bun, with flowers decorated around it. She is squinting through the darkness, her eyes unsteady because of night blindness. The lamps and single window don’t provide enough light for her.

“I’m here, Your Majesty,” Junmyeon grabs the lamp nearest to him and goes to her. She continues squinting even though he’s almost face to face with her. Her blindness must be really bad. “It’s Junmyeon.”

“Ah, our lovely King from Xeria,” she smiles, charming and sweet. “What are you doing here, dear? Not enjoying the party?”

“Oh no, no, nothing of that sort.” Junmyeon holds her hand, leads her out of the room, towards more brightness. “I just wanted to visit that place.”

“What does the room have? I could barely see.”

“It used to be a library,” Junmyeon starts leading her down the stairs, but she pulls her hand away, taking a step back. Her eyes are no longer lost in the darkness, sufficient light coming from downstairs. He frowns at her. “My lady?”

“I’m not interested in going down there,” she shakes her head, then sighs. “It’s so boring. Maybe I was expecting too much of our old fun this time.”

Junmyeon sighs in response. Queen Moon is at least four years older than every ruler at this ball, and she has visited one more Ball than everyone else. “I hear you, Your Majesty. Do you want to go back to the library?”

“And be blinded again?” She laughs, hearty and not offended in the slightest. “No thank you, Junmyeon. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you would assassinate me there.”

“I wouldn’t dare to think of that,” Junmyeon chuckles. “Let’s sit here then? I’m pretty sure nobody would come here. Even if the party is boring.”

She lowers herself gracefully but sits with a loud thud near the stairs. Junmyeon sits in front of her, legs folded on the steps. She has a beautiful smile. “Ah, we’re being bad guests, escaping from the party like this. No matter how boring, the others are staying downstairs.”

“And suffering,” Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “I think it’s nice of us to choose to not suffer, my lady. Besides, you don’t seem guilty at all.”

“You answered it yourself,” She cackles while clapping her hands. The movement is as silent as she can manage. “Why would I look guilty if I escaped suffering, hm?”

Junmyeon chuckles in response. They fall into a conversation about their respective reigns, and it’s easy to talk to Queen Moon. It’s not new to make friends and enemies at these once in a decade Balls hosted on this side of the world. Queen Moon was too old on their last Ball, anyone over the age of twenty-four was unwelcome in their circle, and the Ball before that — Junmyeon doesn’t even remember. He was only five years old. Now, though, he enjoys her company so much. 

She’s old and talks like the elders in Junmyeon’s kingdom, but there’s something in the way she speaks. Every possible thing seems like a story — they’re told like a story, but feel like a mystery to unveil, a moral to read between the lines.

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to know you the previous Ball, my lady,” Junmyeon confesses, words lined with guilt. “I’d be honoured to be connected with you.”

“You flatter me, dear,” She laughs, clapping her hands yet again. She is in a constant state of blushing, for some reason. “I’d like to get to know you and your quirky Aid too! He seems to be more than your Aid, though.”

She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and Junmyeon shakes his head, laughing at her silliness. “He’s like my brother, really. A spoiled younger brother, that’s why he gets away with his quirkiness.”

“Forgive me for suggesting otherwise,” she laughs, pushing at Junmyeon’s shoulder playfully. “But is he married? I might steal that Nymph from right under your nose, Your Highness.”

“Good luck trying to convince him to marry anyone,” Junmyeon grins. “He doesn’t like marriage. He doesn’t like romance either.”

“I respect him for that,” Queen Moon nods, her mood serious all of a sudden. “Being immune to romance is a boon only rarest of the rare get.”

“Yes but there’s  _ fun _ in romance,” Junmyeon can’t help but add. He thoroughly enjoyed performing romantic plays over the other genres. If pretending to be in love with someone can be so enrapturing, he’s sure the actuality of it isn’t quite far off.

“Oh there are a lot of different kinds of fun, dear, other than romance.” She grins. “He won’t be missing out on much. Just as much as you and I.”

“Agreed,” Junmyeon nods. “What kind of fun have you missed out on, my lady?”

“Oh, the usual: being a child, continuing being a child because the Elders would never let you be one. The ordinary Ruler things.”

“But you’re no ordinary Queen,” Junmyeon points out, teasing. “You have a husband and a wife, and a child on its way.”

Her blush darkens, she pushes him away gently. “Don’t mention those. They’re private matters!”

He wants to tease her more, but he hears footsteps from the bottom of the stairs and gets up immediately, helping the Queen as well. He stares at the lower part of the stairs as the footsteps approach, he doesn’t need to see more than a tuft of dark brown hair to know who it is.

“What’s your business here?” Junmyeon asks when they meet eyes. He allows his wings to sneak out of the clothes and stay ready, just in case he has to leave quickly.

“Same as yours,” Jongdae grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, his grip on the railing is whitening his knuckles. “Fleeing a boring party.”

They stare at each other in silence. Jongdae’s clothes are a lighter shade; his robe bears incomplete black, vertical lines over the white. Junmyeon knows that this design is from one of the Tiger species in Tigallop, but all the eight species have similar names, he gave up trying to get it right a long time ago.

“This tension…” Queen Moon whispers to him. “What happened between the two of you?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know, Queen Moon,” Jongdae frowns. It’s his fake frown, the one he uses at these Balls to pretend he cares for whatever his company is saying. Jongdae is an excellent actor. “It has been the talk of the decade. Your charming company here caused it.”

“You initiated it,” Junmyeon grits his teeth. He wonders how much energy it would take to flood this place, flush Jongdae out of his sight. “You’re just as responsible as me.”

“I simply backed out of a plan,” Jongdae shrugs.

“It was a pact,” Junmyeon steps aside, into the increasing darkness of the corridor. He allows him a flutter of wings in anger, takes a deep breath, and returns to his original place again. “You broke a sacred pact. I was allowed to react the way I did.”

“Yes but you weren’t allowed to embarrass my Kingdom like that,” Jongdae is no longer smiling in mock sweetness. “Besides, the pact—”

“Please excuse me, dears,” Queen Moon interrupts with a polite smile. “I don’t want to be involved in this. I have no interest in inspecting your problems. This is a party, even if it’s a boring one.”

She leaves, but not without giving Junmyeon an apologetic smile all the way until she disappears. They watch her leave in silence, their faces grim and anger bubbling as seconds pass by. Once she is out of sight, Jongdae turns to Junmyeon, looking a lot more angry than before.

“We never made a pact,” He takes steps forward, finally stands on the same ground as Junmyeon. They’re of similar height, even if Jongdae seems taller from a distance. Both wear heeled boots, but Junmyeon’s hair is longer than Jongdae’s when styled up. “Don’t spread lies.”

“We  _ swore _ on it, it’s called a pact.” Junmyeon steps into the darkness, his wings now fluttering furiously. “I have no interest in talking to you.”

“I don’t care about your interests, Your Majesty, I don’t want you spreading lies about me or that embarrassing night.”

“Your _father_ taught me what a pact is!” Junmyeon yells, pointing an accusing finger at Jongdae. His hands are shaking, he can hear his own heartbeat, he can feel his heart pounding against his chest. “I’m not spreading any lies, Your Highness, go ask your father what and why he taught me about pacts! And ask him why he didn’t teach _you_ anything about it!”

Jongdae’s voice breaks for a split second. “I  _ wish  _ I could ask him.”

Those words collapse on him like a bag of bricks. “What does that mean?” Junmyeon drops his hand, leans his back against the wall. He knows what it means, but it’s a little hard to comprehend for some reason. “He… He’s no longer…?”

“No.” Jongdae inhales sharply, turns his back to Junmyeon. “You should return to the party, Your Highness, your Aid seems to be beside himself for the past few minutes.”

***

Junmyeon returns to the party a few minutes after Jongdae leaves. He tucks his wings back into his clothes, the shock of the news weighing him as he walks around to find his supposedly ‘beside himself’ Aid to see what that is about. 

There are numerous questions in his mind, but the one which presents itself over and over again is why he didn’t know. Tigallop and Xeria were close even after his fight with Jongdae, stayed close until he and Jongdae became Kings. They don’t trade anymore, but this kind of information… well, wouldn’t this at least be rumoured? Why hasn’t he heard about this?

He finds his Aid chatting with someone near a corner, clinging onto a woman with Royal’s clothes arm as he laughs. Even from afar, Junmyeon can tell it’s Jongin’s sister — the one he adores but can’t help cursing because of how much she gets into trouble.

“Hello,” he bows to her, and she returns it gracefully. “Someone told me you were ‘beside yourself’, Jongin.”

Jongin frowns. “I’ve been here with my sister all this time.”

“It’s true,” his sister nods. “He hunted me down like a shark and hasn’t let me go. I can assure you, Your Highness, he hasn’t caused any trouble.”

Then why did Jongdae say that? “I believe you, he’s like a leech when he clings,” Junmyeon grins. “But I need my Aid now, Your Highness.”

“Finally,” she unhooks his hand from her arm, pats his cheek lovingly. Jongin continues to pout at her. “Go. I’ll see you before bed to talk, okay? I need to get to my wife now.”

She has to physically leave for Jongin to actually pay attention to the person he’s working for. He seems to have a fresh glass of cider with him. Jongin turns around to him, a frown on his face. “Don’t tell me you caused some trouble.”

“I just said I came here because Jongdae told me you were causing trouble,” Junmyeon rolls his eyes, smiling. “You should be grateful I haven’t fired you and your attitude, Jongin. Do your job.”

“I’m honest, you wouldn’t trade me for the world.” Jongin beams, then frowns once again. “Why would Jongdae, of all people, tell you anything? I’ve smiled at him once this evening, that’s all.”

Junmyeon shrugs. “It’s a mystery to me.”

They go about their evenings, sticking together and (on Junmyeon’s part) begrudgingly mingling and socializing with others. Jongin lets him complain silently as they go through the crowd, being polite, making small talk. Junmyeon notices the way Jongin navigates him through the ocean of people — he easily avoids Jongdae and whoever he’s talking to until he moves on. 

“Why are we avoiding them?” Junmyeon asks, pointing at the little circle where Jongdae is obviously standing. “Let’s go there.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Jongin whispers to him, a bit annoyed. “I’m surprised being in the same room as each other hasn’t caused a duel. Nobody is causing a scene under my watch.”

“Nobody?” Junmyeon smirks. He spots Queen Moon, and waves at her when she notices him too. Behind her, Junmyeon thinks he notices another face, similar to Jongdae’s. Does Jongdae have children now? What else does he not know about?

“Jongin,” Junmyeon pulls him into the area with less people. “Did you know that Jongdae’s father passed away?”

His Aid winces at the mention. “Please don’t get me killed.”

“Why wouldn’t you — or anyone — tell me something so important?” Junmyeon grips at Jongin’s arm, tight enough to make Jongin wince again. Junmyeon wants to smack him in the face for this, but it’s not the place nor the time. Jongin must have reasons, yes, but Junmyeon is hurt. Maybe not as a King. As a family friend of the person who died. A childhood friend of the person who is grieving. He hates Jongdae, but they were best of friends before their fight. 

They have a portrait of him and Jongdae sitting together, in the room of family portraits in Tigallop (he won’t be surprised if that has been burnt now). There’s a portrait of Junmyeon’s family and Jongdae’s family hung up on the wall, in Junmyeon’s mother’s room. In both of them, the young princes are next to each other, beaming at the painter.

“I couldn’t gauge your reaction,” Jongin mutters, apologetic. “After the fight, I wasn’t sure if you’d have appropriate reactions or not. So I asked everyone to keep quiet about it, never let it reach you.”

It stings a lot more than Junmyeon expects.

“Is that how lowly you think of me?” He leaves Jongin’s arms, takes a step away from his Aid. “You couldn’t ‘gauge’ my reaction? My reaction to a  _ death  _ — of someone I care about!”

“I’m deeply ashamed,” Jongin kneels immediately, bends to lean his forehead on the floor and clasp his hands in front of his head. “It was a poor decision on my side. My apologies, Your Highness.”

“It wasn’t a decision!” Junmyeon raises his voice. He’s acutely aware that everyone’s eyes are starting to linger on them now. He thinks he spots Jongdae somewhere in the sea of heads, but he couldn’t care any less. His Aid, his friend, his  _ brother, _ thought — maybe he thinks that now too, who knows? — he’d react poorly to someone’s death. Death of a person he cares about, but had a fight with the person’s stupid child.

“Get up,” Junmyeon says, quietly enough that only Jongin hears it. “Let’s talk later.”

***

‘Later’ ends up being at midnight, when Junmyeon has finally thought of everything he wants to tell Jongin. They are not sleeping in adjacent rooms. Junmyeon had asked Jongin to stay near his sister’s room for a while, until things were sorted out. The sky is dark, cold breeze everywhere. Junmyeon’s steps are sure and quick as he makes his way to Jongin’s room, determined to let Jongin know he’s more hurt because of what he thinks and not because he wasn’t informed. They’ve always figured things out by talking, this shouldn’t be any different.

Turning around a corner, he spots Jongdae leaning against the windowsill, looking at the sky with a frown on his face. Junmyeon chooses to ignore him, walks past him.

He doesn’t expect Jongdae to start walking behind him. Junmyeon can ignore him for only so long until everything done by the other King makes him want to scream and take his daggers out.

“Quit following me, Jongdae,” Junmyeon turns around sharply, swinging his robes with the movement just so he can make sure Jongdae is hit. “It’s late, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I could say the same about you,” Jongdae grins, looking pleased for having stopped Junmyeon from going further. “I saw the scene your Aid — or rather, you — caused this evening. What was all that about?”

“None of your business.”

Jongdae’s eyes shine like Junmyeon has never seen before. “Oh but it is, my dear, you were discussing the death of my father. How nobody let you, their  _ King, _ know.”

“My Kingdom, my Helpers, are not your business, no matter the topic under discussion.” Junmyeon takes a step away from the other King. Why is he behaving like this? Why is he being nosy after being told off? Excited, nonetheless, of being dismissed like this? “Please leave me alone, Your Highness.”

“‘Your Highness’? My, my, Junmyeon, are you that hurt by our fight?”

This is not Jongdae. This can’t be him. Jongdae — the real Jongdae, now that he knows this person is impersonating — would never argue about how much the fight hurt. They used the filthiest words towards each other. Jongdae, no matter how close, always uses ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Majesty’ to Rulers. Even to Junmyeon, despite having said “I hope you never become a Ruler, you’re not worth risking the lives of those poor citizens!” out of anger. 

That fight was the first and only time Junmyeon had witnessed Jongdae lose every bit of his politeness. His  _ threats  _ are politely put, every single inch of Jongdae’s body is polite. That’s why everyone still talks about their fight, even after a whole decade. And everyone thinks Junmyeon is the one who did something wrong — because “Jongdae would never use such language. If he were wrong, he would apologize, not fight with you like that.”

“Of course I am,” Junmyeon can’t think of what to say. This impersonator — what should he do about him? He can’t— should he get away from him and plan something? Notify Jongdae of this? What if Jongdae doesn’t believe him, says he’s making it up? Maybe he should check the impersonator’s knowledge and lure him into a trap. “Don’t you remember my words, Jongdae? My actions?”

“Hm, yes, yes,” The Impersonator nods. “Your actions did show how hurt you were.”

He hasn’t witnessed their fight. That’s good.

“I… I approached you that night,” Junmyeon is glad he was forced to learn acting and performative art by his parents. He takes a step towards the Impersonator, frowning like he’s hurt. He stares at the Impersonator’s eyes.  _ ‘Like you’re asking them questions through your gaze,’ _ his teacher had told him.  _ ‘Making eye contact shows the audience you have a connection. Eye contact is usually depicted as closeness, even when it’s not a performance.’ _ “At midnight, I told you so much.”

“Y-yes, but you left the very next minute,” The Impersonator is getting worried, Junmyeon can tell. His eyes shake as he breathes through his mouth rapidly. “You left, without letting me get in any words.”

He knows the big picture, not the smaller details. He knows what the story has been changed into as it traveled from different mouths to different ears.

“I was taken away,” Junmyeon frowns. “How do you expect me to listen when I was being dragged away like a criminal, Jongdae?”

“Right,” The Impersonator takes a step back. His breath is uneven, maybe because of the sudden closeness initiated. That’s another reason he isn’t Jongdae — the real Jongdae likes being close, prefers to be close as a way of proving his point. “But you didn’t give me time, no matter the situation.”

Junmyeon steps away, frowns like all of this is bothering him. “Of course you expect that. You’ve been selfish, I don’t know why I expected anything less from you.”

The Impersonator scoffs and hurries away. He may have been good at fooling Junmyeon and everyone so far, but no more. He hasn’t done his work properly, Junmyeon can tell. Whoever hired this person has made a mistake. Actors can’t be lousy like this. ‘Melodramatic is much, much better than lousy work,’ he remembers his teacher telling him.

***

After being interrupted by the Impersonator, Junmyeon had returned to his room to try and think of something. In the morning Jongin doesn’t make any remarks about anything that Junmyeon does. Junmyeon can’t bear to look at him, but he has more important matters to take care of. He allows Jongin to tail him from the moment he steps out of his room, but doesn’t acknowledge his presence throughout the process of getting ready for the day. 

Today, they show the gifts they’ve brought for the citizens of Ripth as a form of gratitude for their warm welcome. After the gifts are sent off to be distributed, they have to visit the temples of the land, greet and pray for whatever they want. Junmyeon usually prays for consistent energy and health of his Kingdom, they can become rich with jewels later. Nymph powers are their resources, their wealth, and Junmyeon refuses to feel ashamed of not having ‘enough’ wealth to show off.

“Don’t follow me to the temple,” Junmyeon tells Jongin when they are preparing to show the gifts. It’s Jongin’s job to oversee everything here, but Junmyeon walked in before the time of preparations. If Jongin is offended, he doesn’t say or show it at all. “I’ll be going alone this time.”

“But—” Jongin bites his inner cheek, then sighs. “I’m really sorry, Your Majesty, for my poor decisions. You don’t have to do this. You can punish me.”

“I have no interest in punishing you, Jongin.” Junmyeon rolls his eyes. What is he, a child? Punishing does nothing when the matter is personal. Jongin didn’t commit a crime, didn’t break any rules set up in the Kingdom. “You keep calling it a ‘poor decision’ when it wasn’t your decision to make. Withholding information about something so important from me— why am I talking to you about this?”

He takes two steps to his right, then waves dismissively at Jongin. “Look over the distribution and help when the time comes. You’re not needed here.”

Jongin leaves without a word. Junmyeon can’t help sneaking a glance towards him, and finds him walking with his head hung low. Somewhere in his mind, Junmyeon is aware that he doesn’t believe Jongin’s reason for not informing. Jongin isn’t such a person. He thinks it through before opening his mouth, he is the only person who gets to use the proverb ‘think twice before you speak’ to correct someone. 

Junmyeon has told him several times before that Jongin needs to inform him of things, even if he hasn’t thought about it.  _ He _ should be worrying about at least 80% of the things Jongin needlessly worries over. Jongin’s work is to help him — he’s an Aid, not his husband who also has to handle a whole kingdom. He is not a minister, either. Junmyeon is pretty sure he’s caught grey hair on Jongin’s head from how much he thinks.

Looking over the gifts preparation doesn’t require much of his attention. All the Helpers work efficiently, rarely coming to him to ask for something. Junmyeon’s mind wanders to last night’s Impersonator. He needs to do something about that person, make sure that Jongdae doesn’t get in trouble for no reason. This needs to be discussed with Jongdae. Who knows how quickly the Impersonator can become an exact copy of Jongdae, make Junmyeon’s work more difficult.

An important question to wonder about is why is the Impersonator here. Who, what, where — all of those are something he can figure out eventually, but the why makes him anxious. Why choose Jongdae?

Or maybe, the Impersonator can change faces. That explains why Jongdae told him Jongin was out of himself before leaving.

Junmyeon curses under his breath. This makes everything more complicated, he needs to ask someone’s help. 

He thinks of Jongin first, then Jongdae. He’ll have to work with the both of them. Jongin is fine, he knows Jongin will put aside anything that’s happening between them to help. But Jongdae, he needs to believe in Junmyeon’s words first, believe that there is a person in the castle grounds pretending to be him and Jongin, and who knows who else.

He walks up to one of the soldiers nearby. “Can you please go and find Jongin? And ask him to meet me as soon as he can?”

“I’m right here, Your Majesty,” Jongin comes out from behind a wall, alert but he’s not showing any emotions on his face. “How can I help?”

Junmyeon holds his arm and brings him to the place he was standing before. None of the Helpers are near them, and— how will he know this Jongin is the real one? Damn it.

“Jongin,” Junmyeon isn’t sure if this tactic will work, but he’ll have to trust his gut here. “When did I fully summon a cup of water?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question,” Junmyeon’s lips form a thin line. “When did I fully summon a cup of water for the first time?”

“When you were around seven years old, why?”

Good. That’s the correct answer, not a lot of people know that. Junmyeon talks in a hushed tone. “I need you to keep a secret, and help me with it.”

Jongin stays quiet, staring with wide eyes.

“Someone — there is a person who is impersonating Jongdae. I caught them in action, but I’m sure they’re impersonating others too. That explains why Jongdae said you were acting out last evening.”

“That explains the question,” Jongin sighs, seemingly disappointed. “I… what are you planning to do, Your Highness?”

_ I don’t know, _ Junmyeon wants to say.  _ I don’t want to know what I’m planning. I don’t want to be planning anything. Why did I have to notice this? _

“Figure out a way to inform Jongdae about this,” He says after a beat. “Come up with something to ensure the people I’m talking to are not the Impersonator, and catch the Impersonator and interrogate them about their purpose of doing this.”

“I can handle telling King Jongdae,” Jongin sighs again. He sighs a lot when he’s stressed. “Maybe we can use a word before talking, as a form of code. A question can become hit or miss after a while.”

“A code will need to change too.”

“Not if,” Jongin looks around them, making sure nobody is listening. “Not if the code is unique, something which is used solely for this. And we need to keep it amongst ourselves, not let others know about it. We’ll have to change the code frequently if there are more people.”

Junmyeon instantly knows what the code should be. “Wolap. That’s the word.” Jongdae named one of his dolls ‘Wolap’ and insisted that it’s a real name.

“Wolap. Can I know what that is, Your Highness?”

“Jongdae will know. Will you handle informing Jongdae? I need you to do it before we leave for the temple,” Junmyeon taps his foot impatiently, looks at the ground once then back at Jongin, trying to muster up the courage to say the next words. “You’re forgiven, you can stop with the formality now.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jongin whispers. “Your Majesty. I can handle this. Will you be trying to capture the Impersonator?”

“Yes,” Junmyeon frowns, forehead wrinkling as he tries not to think about how much he’d love to raise his voice and argue with Jongin right now. What does he mean by ‘I don’t believe you’? Stupid Nymph. “I don’t know when or how long it’ll take, but that’s my focus until I can talk to Jongdae in private.”

***

The ceremony goes smoothly, with little to no trouble from anyone’s side. Junmyeon’s eyes scan the group he is in, trying to remember what everyone acts like normally. But at this point, he’s doubting everyone. Even Jongdae, who keeps glancing at him nervously, and when their eyes meet, he shows Junmyeon a nervous smile.

It inevitably reminds him of the first day of the Ball a decade ago. Junmyeon was excitedly bouncing in his seat, the younglings were farther from the stage of announcements, and he was excited to see the citizens’ reaction to the gifts he chose. Jongdae sat next to him, smiling nervously every time Junmyeon would lean in and whisper something to him, because he chose the gifts too, and he wasn’t sure of himself.

Jongdae was (still is) greatly different from his father, he got very little assurance from his mother and his Helper, and for a child who looks up to his father a lot — his silence seemed to be a red stamp of rejection.

Jongin comes to him and whispers that the real Jongdae knows of the situation, knows their word, and leaves to help with the distribution.

Junmyeon tries to call him back, to ask him to join him on his way to the temple, but Jongin just pretends his King is saying something else and gives him a thumbs up. It hurts a lot more than Junmyeon expects.

The group visiting the temple is small. The main room of the temple can fit only four people comfortably, so it’s only the Kings and their Aids going. Junmyeon has a guard with him instead, and it’s terribly lonely until Jongdae climbs into the carriage on their way back.

“Ask your guard to come in my carriage,” Jongdae says. “Kyungsoo knows.”

Once that’s settled, their carriage begins to move, and it’s awkward. Junmyeon doesn’t want to talk first.

“Wolap is a terrible name for a play doll, but it’s turned out to be useful.” Jongdae glances at him, then stares out of the window as he continues talking. “How did you find out about this situation?”

“When I was wandering the corridors at night, he started following me.”

“Not that,” Jongdae leans his temple against the window, sighs. “How did you find out that it wasn’t me?”

“They were being aloof about the… topic we were discussing before.”

“Topic?”

Junmyeon considers not telling him for a moment, then decides against it. “Your father’s death. And they acted offended when I said ‘Your Highness’ to them.”

“They must think I’m disrespectful to other Rulers,” Jongdae chuckles. “Has my polite reputation been ruined because of a single fight?”

“No,” Junmyeon leans back in his seat, crosses his arms and legs. “They just didn’t know any better. I’m sure if they spend any more time roaming as freely as they did last night, they’ll get better and better with their acting.”

“We can’t let that happen. How do you plan on luring them?”

“By walking the corridors at night again.”

Jongdae looks at him, eyes serious, and raises his eyebrow. “On what basis do you believe that’s going to work?”   


Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “If you have a better plan, please tell me, Your Highness.”

“What are his motives? What is his goal?”

“We don’t know.”

“Ah,” Jongdae nods, a defeated smile on his face. He still doesn’t look at Junmyeon at all. “Your plan it is, Your Majesty.”

Junmyeon doesn’t remember the last time Jongdae looked like this. His smile is so sad, it makes him wonder if the laughter and any fun Jongdae seemed to have at the party was the Impersonator.

*

When the carriage comes to halt, the silence between them turns awkward and odd. Jongdae doesn’t seem to be thinking much about it, while Junmyeon squirms in his seat. He breathes out a few times, and when Jongdae reaches out to the handle of the door, Junmyeon panics.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jongdae pauses. He opens the door nonetheless, and just when Junmyeon thinks he’ll leave without saying anything, he leans his upper body out of the carriage to talk to the driver. “Please put this back and go ahead with your day.”

He sits back in, a little closer this time, and closes the door. The carriage resumes moving, and Jongdae looks at him expectantly.

It’s difficult to form words with overwhelming emotions and being under Jongdae’s serious gaze. The carriage rocks them gently as it moves. “I would’ve sent my condolences sooner, and even attended the funeral if I had known earlier.”

“I sent a letter,” Jongdae says, voice emotionless.

Junmyeon winces. “I didn’t know until yesterday.”

“What?”

“Jongin… he hid it from me,” Junmyeon feels ashamed of admitting this. Talking about anything bad Jongin does to someone who isn’t Jongin is new to him. He glances nervously at Jongdae. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“I won’t, obviously. Have some faith in me, Your Highness.” Jongdae sighs. Then his voice becomes soft, gentle in the way he talks to Kyungsoo, his Aid. “But he didn’t tell you? I sent you and your family the first letter.”

Oh that pricks like an unexpected thorn. “No. Like I said, I didn’t know until yesterday, when you told me.”

Jongdae is silent for a moment. “He must have his reasons,” Jongdae declares. “That’s the only possible explanation for this. Jongin wouldn’t do something like this for fun. He’s a good person, a good Aid. Why did he do it?”

“I don’t know, I’m yet to ask him about that.” Junmyeon turns his body towards Jongdae, as much as he can without their knees touching. “Can I ask what happened?”

“They wanted to live outside the castle like your parents, but on their way back, my father stepped on a poisonous bush with thorns.”

Junmyeon winces in sympathy. He notices Jongdae’s tense shoulder, but refrains from placing a comforting hand there.

“They were assisted immediately, of course, but the poison kept spreading. His foot bled out the poison, but his lower body was weakened. We thought all of the poison was removed from his body, but it spread to his heart and head, it made his body greenish blue.”

He licks his lips, presses them together. His shoulders are shaking, his hands are balled up into fists on his lap, he is starting to curl into himself. Junmyeon carefully places his arm around Jongdae’s shoulders, brings him closer, and hugs him as tightly as he can manage in the position. Jongdae’s head drops onto his shoulder, and he lets out a weak sob. 

When they were young (the time before last Ball), Junmyeon would tease Jongdae about his crying. Jongdae cried like a baby: loud, frantic, and he would calm down only after he was held, with his head against someone’s chest. He cried openly and proudly. Junmyeon is sure every old Helper in Jongdae’s castle has held Jongdae against their chest at least once in their lifetime.

It’s a first for Jongdae to hold back his cries. Time changes people, but this change particularly hurts Junmyeon. He used to envy Jongdae for how easily he could cry and demand comfort from others, he could never do such a thing with anyone. And now, he’s holding his tears back, curling up instead of demanding and talking until he was too exhausted to continue.

“You’re allowed to cry,” Junmyeon reminds him. “You’ve lost someone close to you, Jongdae, you don’t have to hold it back.”

“He passed away abruptly, when nobody was expecting it.” Jongdae stutters over the next few words, then finally moves his body to fit himself against Junmyeon more comfortably. He lets out a sob, buries his face into Junmyeon’s shoulder. “The head of experts said he died without any struggle, that his death was as peaceful as we could hope for.”

The carriage stops again. The driver knocks on the door.

“Please don’t come in,” Junmyeon says, resting his cheek against Jongdae’s head. “What is it?”

“I’ll be taking my leave, Your Majesty.”

“Okay. Thank you for the ride.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Jongdae doesn’t cry for long. He quiets down after five or six minutes, then detaches himself from Junmyeon, moves a little away and puts space between them. He wipes his cheeks with his hands, and dries them on his pants.

“Thank you.” He mutters, unable to look at Junmyeon. “And I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Junmyeon can’t help reaching out to squeeze Jongdae’s hand. “I know the rituals are cruel, you don’t have to be sorry about anything, Jongdae.”

“It’s about your top,” Jongdae points at the wet spot on Junmyeon’s shoulder, huffing out a chuckle. “It’s going to take some time to dry, and it’s in such an obvious spot.”

Junmyeon places a hand over the spot. “There.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling faintly. (Junmyeon refuses to acknowledge the happy little flutter of his heart.) “But yes, the rituals — I used to think ours were better, that at least we didn’t have to be sleepless for four days. I was wrong, as it turns out. I couldn’t take a bath for a whole week, let alone sit down. I finish one thing, and the other requires my attention.”

“You’re a living being, you can be wrong about a lot of things.” Junmyeon offers. As soon as he’s said those words, he realizes they sound like a rude jab for something.

“You have a kind voice but cruel intentions,” Jongdae laughs. It’s genuine, happy laughter, like the one Junmyeon heard at the party and got annoyed about — but this one is so much more real, so much better to listen to. “Your Nymph background is showing, Junmyeon.”

“My intentions weren’t cruel, but if you’re going to be like this,” Junmyeon pretends to scoff. “Be my guest and think that.”

Jongdae laughs again, and Junmyeon is almost distracted by his laughter. He chuckles along, until they go silent. There is no more tension in the carriage like before, the silence is comfortable, they continue to smile at each other.

He glances out of the window to check how much time has passed. It can’t be more than thirty minutes since they’ve entered the castle grounds, ten minutes since they stopped and the driver left. “We need to figure out the Impersonator’s intentions soon.” He says, “From what I know, they can change into a lot of people.”

“It makes our work difficult,” Jongdae nods. “But for now, let’s stick with our plan. I think wandering alone will help, but we can only pray that they approach you as me again.”

“Yes,” Junmyeon groans when he recollects his morning’s quest. “I keep doubting everyone as if I’ve forgotten how they behaved before this.”

“That’s not a problem,” Jongdae grins. “Let’s meet tomorrow somewhere private, with Jongin. I’ll help you with everyone’s personalities, their characteristics.”

Junmyeon raises his eyebrow. “Are you suddenly an expert in people and their minds, Your Highness?”

“Of course not, Your Majesty.” Jongdae smirks. “I’m just smart enough to not forget.”

And the annoying Jongdae returns, just like that. Junmyeon wants to smack his face, so instead of a slap, he puts his hand on Jongdae’s cheek and pushes to make him look away.

***

Sleep is weighing on his eyelids, his steps heavy and sluggish. The silence in the corridors only lulls him further into the hazy feeling of tiredness, he wants to lean against a wall and fall asleep. Laying on the floor and sleeping right there wouldn’t be a problem, either. Who cares if he’s a King? He needs sleep, the floor is comfortable enough if he rolls his robe up into a pillow.

It’s the same time as last night, so Junmyeon treads on, hoping to find the Impersonator. Jongin and Jongdae are in their respective rooms, sleeping probably. Junmyeon is a little jealous they get to sleep while he roams aimlessly in the hopes of running into the Impersonator again.

To fight off sleep, he starts to think of Jongin. He knows Jongin would have his reasons for hiding, but what the reason could be, Junmyeon doesn’t have a clue. Jongin thinks deeply, of the past, present, and future, before making the decision. There’s not a single time when Jongin came to him with just the information — it’s always “This happened in the past, we should avoid this.” or “I think we have four options with this.” And never simply the information.

Knowing this makes it much more frustrating. Jongin did suggest that he didn’t trust Junmyeon’s reaction to be a good one, an appropriate one, and that’s something to consider even if it hurts Junmyeon’s ego. They know each other well — at least Jongin does, Junmyeon is unable to decipher Jongin’s intentions even after so much time. Maybe their friendship is one-sided.

The thought is upsetting. It would make sense for Jongin to not think Junmyeon is his friend, for obvious reasons, but they’ve been working together for eleven years now. Sure, Junmyeon knows Jongin’s favourite food, his favourite robe, his interests, but that’s all. He can’t put his foot in Jongin’s shoe, can’t understand why he would do something.

His spiral of thoughts is interrupted when he runs into someone’s chest.

“My apologies,” he winces, rubbing his face out of embarrassment. “I wasn’t looking.”

“It’s quite alright, Your Highness.” A deep, soothing voice replies.

Junmyeon is alert now. He looks in front of him and finds a handsome man, an equally handsome gummy smile on his face. He has Queen Moon clinging onto his arm, and Junmyeon realizes it’s her husband. Moon Yongguk, if he isn’t mistaken.

“I’m sorry,” He bows to the both of them.

“You look deep in thought,” Queen Moon notices, frowning. “Troubling ones, if I’m guessing.”

“Nothing like that, Your Majesty,” Junmyeon smiles a little. “I’m tired but unable to sleep, that’s all.”

The couple exchange looks, the Queen pats her husband’s forearm, and he nods.

“Good night, Your Majesty, I hope you sleep well.” He bows, then leaves.

Queen Moon offers her arm to him, smiling kindly. “Let’s take a walk, my dear.”

He takes her arm, holds onto it tightly as they start walking in the direction he already was.

“What is it?” She asks a beat later. “You were scowling, didn’t notice someone walking in front of you. It’s very unlike you.”

“I don’t think you’d want to be involved in my Kingdom’s politics, Your Highness.”

She hums. “I don’t, but I can lend an ear to my friend. I’ll listen and keep it locked in my head, if that helps.”

He’s all too aware of the fact that she could be an Impersonator right now too. But there’s no way to tell, so he pretends she is the real Queen.

They start walking towards the garden in silence.

“Would you rather I talk first?” She offers. “I have a lot to talk about, not everything I can share with my spouses.”

“That’d be nice,” Junmyeon nods. “If you don’t mind, Your Highness. I promise to not tell anyone about this.”

“Oh it’s too embarrassing for anyone to speak of,” she chuckles. “My wife’s pregnancy is going good, and I’m terrified of how smooth it has been.”

“But it’s going good,” Junmyeon frowns. “Why are you terrified?”

“It’s like the silence or calm before the horrible happening,” she sighs. They take a left turn, the garden now visible through the windows. Junmyeon notices the full moon, bright and glorious, alone in the sky without any stars to accompany it. Junmyeon wonders if it feels lonely. “Foeu isn’t equipped with the right experts to handle the situation if something happens. We received a letter from her this evening, she said the maids were taking good care of her, but Yongguk is anxious, and that’s rubbing off on me.”

Junmyeon stays quiet. He doesn’t know what to say — he doesn’t have a child to worry over, not even a spouse. All he has is one-sided friendship with Jongin and a person he hates but needs to stay close to him due to the situation.

“I don’t blame him, I’m worried too, but he’s an overthinker like you.” She sighs. “I found him writing a list of things that could go wrong, and directions for the maids of how to handle the situation. I had to drag him out for a walk, or he would really send it.”

“I’ll pray for no such thing to happen,” Junmyeon mutters. He sympathises a little, but he isn’t in a position to understand her fully. “And that he doesn’t need to send those instructions.”

“Thank you, my dear. We’re expecting the child coming month, we have time. Don’t you worry over this too.”

He can’t help but chuckle, roll his eyes playfully at her. “I’m not that bad, Your Majesty, don’t exaggerate.”

“Then why were you scowling?” she giggles. “Tell me, come on. I confided in you, and I promise not to tell anyone either.”

For unknown reasons, Junmyeon trusts her. She looks trustworthy, she seems harmless overall. He can’t help but think if confiding in her turns out to be a problem in the future, it’s a problem for his future, not right now. He really wants to talk to Jongin, about Jongin too.

“My Aid, Jongin, he didn’t tell me something,” His voice breaks a little. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “It was something important. He said he didn’t trust— well, that he couldn’t ‘gauge’ my reaction, so he hid it from me.”

The words hang heavy in the air. The Queen remains silent, and Junmyeon doesn’t have anything else to add. They reach the garden, Queen Moon separates from him to go near the shrubs. She puts her fingers through the perfectly trimmed bushes, begins to hum some unknown song.

Junmyeon stands next to her, places his hands on the tender bushes and looks up at the moon. It’s still alone, it looks more lonely now that there is more visible sky. Junmyeon stays closer to her. The castle is brightly lit at all hours of the day, she won’t have a problem navigating inside, but the outside is dark and he doubts she can see anything clearly.

“Do you trust him?” She whispers.

Junmyeon glances at her. She’s busy with the bush, a little frown on her face. He thinks about it for a beat. “I think so.”

“You think?”

“I’m questioning a lot of things now,” Junmyeon shrugs. “What is friendship, why I could comfort a person I’m supposed to hate. I don’t know what would be trusting someone.”

She lets out a long, suffering sigh. “If it were something else, say, an invitation to someone’s reign, and he said the same words, would you feel the same?”

“I don’t know.” Junmyeon replies. He may sound foolish like this, but at least he’s answering truthfully.

“Then I suggest you talk to him about everything.” She turns to him, a knowing smile on her face. “Your feelings are hurt, and I think talking about it is the only way to resolve whatever you’re feeling.”

Junmyeon is about to tell her that they did talk, but he realizes him asking Jongin to stop using ‘Your Highness’ is not talking. A conversation, she means, where both of them talk, listen, and try to understand each other.

They did that a lot, why aren’t they doing it when there’s a real problem now?

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Keep your Aid close to you,” she grins. “Or I’ll seduce him into marrying me.”

Junmyeon laughs. He feels a wave of relief when he can easily imagine Jongin whining about a Queen trying to seduce him, about how marriage is overrated. “You may try, Your Highness.”

He offers to walk her back to her room, but she declines it, saying she’d rather spend a few minutes alone. He goes back inside the castle (but not before asking a guard to stay with her, to help her), and walks straight towards Jongin’s room. They really need to talk.

***

A moment of hesitation captures him when he’s finally in front of Jongin’s door. Should he knock? He’s never had to visit someone else’s room like this before, unless it was Jongdae — who preferred Junmyeon to barge in instead of knock. But Jongin—

The door clicks and opens inward, catching him by surprise, and reveals Jongdae with his dagger.

“W-wolap!” He takes a step back, putting his forearm between himself and the dagger. “Who greets the door with a dagger?!”

“You scared us,” Jongdae sighs, lowering his dagger. “Why were you standing like a killer in the stories? Come in before anyone notices you, Your Highness.”

“ _ You _ need to be careful, coming to my Aid’s room like this,” Junmyeon retorts, closing the door behind him and making sure to lock it. “Why are you here anyway? I need to talk to Jongin in private.”

“To tell one of you I saw the Impersonator,” Jongdae sheaths his dagger, hides it inside his robe in the blink of an eye, and takes a seat on Jongin’s bed. The Aid is staring at Jongdae, barely acknowledging the other King. Jongdae looks at Junmyeon as he continues. “He came to my room as you told me he wants to discuss everything we talked about in the carriage because he has more to add.”

Junmyeon’s blood runs cold. His mouth falls agape, eyes widen. “He saw us.”

“We need a better plan,” Jongin says quietly. “To catch him. We need to do it quicker.”

“Yes,” Jongdae pats the space next to him. Junmyeon takes a step towards him, then stops when Jongin takes the place there. Right. They hate each other, why would Jongdae ask him to sit next to him? “What do you suggest, Your Highness?”

Jongdae’s eyes weigh on his shoulders, judging his every movement.

“We make a list of possibilities,” Junmyeon pursues his lips, silently praying this works out. “Try to rule out as many as possible, and then catch the Impersonator.”

He really doesn’t have any idea of what to do. Back in his Kingdom, he wouldn’t worry about others — he is the one in command and Nymphs listen to him. Here are beings more powerful, in a higher position by age, who have everyone’s respect more than he does. Like Queen Moon, Ruler Boo, Queen Solar — a lot of them. Maybe he does care about the stupid fight now more than ever. If they hadn’t done that stupid stunt, this would be a lot easier, he would have more help.

“That’ll take forever to make,” Jongin stares at the floor as he speaks. “This person is clearly interested in the both of you, maybe we can lure him by making sure everyone notices you talking secretly.”

They look at Jongdae, who glances between them and then sighs. “I think both of these are good ideas. We need to lure them out, but also be prepared for anything they might have planned. I think we can do it together.”

***

Once Jongdae leaves, Junmyeon stops near the door, turns around to face Jongin who is sitting in the same spot, unmoving and hostile towards him.

“Jongin,” Junmyeon calls, various thoughts running through his head as he waits for Jongn to look at him. He only gets a hum in response, nothing else. “Why does it— we really need to talk.”

“Go ahead, Your Majesty,” Jongin replies, but his body tenses visibly. “I’m listening.”

Junmyeon wants to say so much. Why do you get to show your anger and I don’t? What did you mean when you said you didn’t trust my words? So many more things, but he doesn’t know if it’s appropriate for the situation.

“I’m sorry.” He ends up saying. He doesn’t mean it, doesn’t even know the reason behind his own apology. In the end, it’s the only way to get Jongin to talk about this.

And he’s right. Jongin gets up, eyes wide in surprise, and comes up to him looking terribly worried. “Why are you sorry?  _ I _ did a bad thing, you wouldn’t even—”

“I tried,” Junmyeon frowns. He has so much to say, and every single part of it is coming from anger. “I asked you to drop the formality, I said I forgave you, but you just ignored me. Doesn’t it seem like I did something wrong?”

“No, I—” Jongin lets out a long sigh, his hands and legs shaking. “I feel terrible for what I did. I, I just—”

Junmyeon carefully brings Jongin into his arms, holds him like that while Jongin cries with his chin on Junmyeon’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin sobs. “I don’t—”

“Let it all out, we’ll talk once you’re feeling better, okay?”

Jongin lets out another pitiful sob as he nods. His crying stops after a minute, and they part to move and sit on the bed. Junmyeon has a feeling that  _ he _ will cry some day this week, or at least before the Ball ends. Everyone he cares for is crying for one reason or another, first Jongdae and now—. He doesn’t care about Jongdae.  _ Focus on Jongin, _ Junmyeon thinks.

“We might as well talk,” Jongin sniffles, pouting. “I’m going to cry anyway.”

Now with the opportunity to talk, Junmyeon forgets what he was so angry about. Yes, Jongin didn’t tell him about something, and said he didn’t trust his reactions. So what?

“I,” Junmyeon sighs. He is no longer too angry, to be honest, but that’s just his habit of bottling his anger and lashing out later. He’s never done this with Jongin, never gotten so angry at him that he wants to bottle it up and take revenge later on. “I’m hurt, Jongin.”

Jongin cowers away, but looks at him. “I’m sorry for it.”

“Listen to me first,” Junmyeon’s voice shakes a little. He blinks away his tears before Jongin can notice. “I’m more hurt and upset that you think so cheaply of me. I understand that you may have your reasons, but the way you put it made feel horrible.”

Saying those words brings up too many emotions. The fight with Jongdae, his parents leaving the castle a day after he was crowned, how badly they treated Queen Moon even though she isn’t much older than their group, the day Xeria and Tigallop agreed to stop trading, and so much more. It’s in the past, Junmyeon has moved on, but the pain of those memories remain in his chest.

“I didn’t mean to say any of those words,” Jongin sobs again, but he moves closer to Junmyeon this time, reaching out to lace their fingers. “That’s not the real reason I didn’t tell you, I panicked and said those words without thinking. I’m really sorry, Your Highness.”

“What’s the real reason?”

“I was afraid of your reaction. You weren’t having the best day, so I thought I should tell you in the morning instead, but no time seemed to go well. Any time I thought of telling you, I would picture you crying like you did the day after we cut ties with Tigallop.”

Junmyeon understands half of what Jongin’s saying. “But that day, what I felt was anger, not grief.”

“It was anger,” Jongin smiles sadly. He can be childish when he wants to be, but moments like these make him seem wiser than anyone Junmyeon has encountered. “But I saw sadness in you. You couldn’t sleep that night, either. And I didn’t want you to go through that ever again…”

“Jongin,” Junmyeon cups the Aid’s cheeks, sniffling and smiling amusedly. “You don’t have to protect me, that’s not your job. I’m a King, I can take care of myself, the whole kingdom, and everyone living there. My father wouldn’t have made me a King if he thought I wasn’t good enough.”

“It’s not about that,” Jongin starts crying again. He moves away, playing with Junmyeon’s hands as he mumbles through his cries, fumbling and stuttering through his sentences. “I k-know you can take care of everything, but my job is to help you, and how is it helpful if I make your days worse?”

Junmyeon feels bad for chuckling, but it’s so pure and innocent of Jongin to think of it like this. It’s supposed to be easier with Jongin, nothing to weigh in, nothing to overthink about. Even now, while discussing something so foreign to both of them, Junmyeon feels at ease knowing if he  _ does _ say something wrong by mistake, Jongin will let him explain, let it drop and they’ll be okay soon.

“You’re a fool, Jongin,” He dodges a slap on his arm from his Aid, and laughs again. “Do you really think you’d just stand there and watch me cry?”

“I wouldn’t know what to do!” Jongin raises his voice, looks at Junmyeon, cries some more.

“It’s good for me to feel emotions, you know?” Junmyeon sighs. “It’s a thing nobody can escape, right? Don’t hide these things from me. It ended up hurting us a lot more than it would’ve.”

Jongin nods, sobs into his hand. They stay like that, Junmyeon watches Jongin try to collect himself and fail twice, it takes him a few moments to stop crying. Junmyeon’s heart aches weirdly, he expected worse — that Jongin would somehow call him incompetent, tell him that he meant every word he said. It’s never happened before, but he can’t help but wonder if Jongin does think something along those lines.

***

A few moments after getting up from his bed, Junmyeon is still not fully awake. He lingers on his bed for a while, then pushes himself up to get started with the day. There’s nothing special for today. The Ball will end in three days. There’s a rumour that Queen Solar will call a conference for the Rulers, discuss trade, connections, and possibly propose something. It’s still a rumour, though, so Junmyeon doesn’t give it much thought. He overheard someone discussing the possibility, and if Jongin didn’t know about it, it’s less likely to be true. 

He opens the door and shrieks like a coward when he finds Jongdae in front of him.

“Stop standing like that!” Junmyeon yells, groaning when it earns him laughter. “Kyungsoo, tell his Highness to stop being childish.”

Kyungsoo, Jongdae’s Aid, looks sympathetic. Jongdae butts in before Kyungsoo can say anything. “I’ve done this thrice by now, how are you still squealing like a coward?”

“You’d have the same reaction if you see your enemy the first thing in the morning,” Junmyeon isn’t awake enough to put up with this. “Leave, I still have to get ready.”

“Queen Solar has requested us to meet her in her conference room,” Jongdae shrugs. “I’ll be waiting here, be quick.”

Junmyeon gapes at him. “It’s my room, Your Majesty.”

“I know,” Jongdae grins. They’ve been attached at the hip for the sake of their plan, and he’s become more and more lenient with his manners with more time spent together. Junmyeon has been, too, but he isn’t sure if he likes it. “It’s not like you change your clothes here, Your Highness, I can stay here.”

“Kyungsoo,” Junmyeon looks at Jongdae’s Aid, pleading him silently to get this nuisance out of his room. “Get him out.”

He looks dejected, tugging at Jongdae’s arm quietly, and whispers something.

“But I want to stay here,” Jongdae pouts at him. Nobody watching this scene would believe Jongdae is a King now. Junmyeon scoffs quietly, but Jongdae catches it. “Look, he’s even doing that…”

His voice drops, Junmyeon strains his ears to try and listen, but it’s too low for him to catch the words.

“Your Majesty,” Kyungsoo looks apologetic. “I can get Jongin to help you.”

Junmyeon sighs, defeated. “Fine. Please go get him.”

When Kyungsoo leaves, Junmyeon watches as Jongdae makes himself comfortable on his bed, leaning back on his hands.

“How’s Wolap?” Junmyeon asks.

Jongdae’s eyebrows furrow. “Wolap?”

He feels panic rise. They’ve all met the Impersonator separately, when they were alone and without anyone around. Kyungsoo should be able to tell the difference between Jongdae and the Impersonator, right? But he doesn’t know there’s an Impersonator.

Junmyeon debates locking the Impersonator in his room, but there are windows. They’re sure this person doesn’t have any powers to escape or vanish, but who knows what they can do.

“Your doll,” Junmyeon’s throat is drying rapidly. “The doll you brought here.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” The Impersonator waves their hand dismissively.  _ The plan worked, _ Junmyeon thinks. He’s surprisingly proud, not annoyed that it’s Jongdae’s plan which worked and not his. “Tell me, Junmyeon, what should we discuss today?”

“What?” Junmyeon’s heart is pounding against his chest.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a bad memory too, now,” They chuckle. “We’ve been whispering so many things to each other in the past few days, did you forget?”

They’ve been discussing their childhood together, nothing important or serious — that’s the only thing either of them can talk about without becoming furious and starting a fight. It has been nice, and every time they’ve confirmed each other’s identity before talking. There’s no way Junmyeon is telling this person about anything.

“No,” He shrugs. “You just caught me off guard.”

“We’ve talked so much,” The Impersonator is doing a great job at their work. Junmyeon, if it weren’t for the confirmation a moment ago, wouldn’t have guessed that it wasn’t Jongdae. They’re a lot better than the first time Junmyeon met them, especially at clinging onto the bare minimum knowledge they have on certain topics. “Do you think the other Rulers find us strange? Dare I say, suspicious?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, we’ve been  _ whispering _ to each other. We wouldn’t as much as look at each other the first night here, and now this?” Junmyeon scoffs. He looks at fake Jongdae’s face, decides to throw a bait. “I’d be shocked — and a little offended — if anyone thought we’ve become friends.”

The Impersonator takes the bait. “Offended?”

“We’ve been planning things, but that doesn’t make us friends,” Junmyeon lies, his face and voice remaining flat. “I’d rather die than become your friend.”

Fake Jongdae smirks. Junmyeon shivers. “Would you, now?”

How does anyone respond to that? The silence followed by those words feels like an unbearable amount of weight on Junmyeon’s shoulders. He stares at the Impersonator, who stares back with so much confidence that Junmyeon begins to sweat. He wants to run out of the room, but they (he  _ and _ Jongdae) have worked so hard just for this moment. Everything will be wasted if he lets the Impersonator escape right now.

“Well?” Fake Jongdae breaks the silence, but anything from his mouth adds to the weight on his shoulders.

“I never want to be friends with you,” Junmyeon breathes. He’s only ever been the best at pretending to love someone through and through, this is his only chance to keep this person here. “I can’t be just friends with you when I’m in love with you.”

All the colour and tease drains from the Impersonator’s face.

“I didn’t want to tell you this,” Junmyeon sighs, gaining confidence from such a negative reaction. He taps his foot, squeezes his eyes for a second and looks away. “Not this early. But it’s true, Jongdae.”

He moves closer to the Impersonator, enjoying the way they squirm, clearly uncomfortable about being in this situation. Junmyeon is seconds away from laughing in their face. “I’ve been thinking of different ways to tell you this, but I guess there can’t be a right away.”

There’s silence once again, but it no longer feels like tension to Junmyeon. The Impersonator breathes heavily through their mouth, glancing at him occasionally.

Junmyeon can’t help himself. “Well?”

“I…” He can almost see the way fake Jongdae’s brain overworks itself for a reply. “I need to go.”

They dash towards the door, but Junmyeon is closer to it and faster than them. He leans against the door and frowns like he’s hurt. “You said you had a confession too, yesterday. What is it?”

Their eyes widen. “I-I don’t remember.”

“But you promised to tell me today,” He grabs fake Jongdae’s hands, laces their fingers together. “Don’t leave me to guess.”

The Impersonator is more uncomfortable now. They stutter, gulping every now and then. “Junmyeon, I… I don’t—”

A knock on the door interrupts them. “It’s me,” Jongin says through the door. “Queen Solar and everyone is waiting for the two of you.”

“We have to go,” Fake Jongdae is visibly relieved. They shake Junmyeon’s hand away and steps aside. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t,” Junmyeon steps in front of them, serious. “Don’t tell Jongin. He doesn’t know, I haven’t told him yet.”

Fake Jongdae nods urgently.

They open the door and step outside.

“You haven’t gotten ready,” Jongin notes, frowning. “Your Highness.”

“We got caught up talking,” The Impersonator smiles sweetly, just like Jongdae. Junmyeon wants to applaud this performance. “It’s my fault, don’t blame him.”

Jongin looks suspicious of those words but he nods nonetheless, gestures for them to start walking.

Unsure of how to tell Jongin about the fake Jongdae, he falls a step behind, now walking next to Jongin, and cups his mouth to whisper to him. “This isn’t the real Jongdae.”

His Aid stops in his tracks for a second. Junmyeon catches up with the fake Jongdae for the sake of keeping an eye on him. He looks over his shoulder, finds Jongin jogging towards them.

“Really?” Jongin mouths. Junmyeon nods. He thinks he catches Jongin curse, but he can’t be too sure, every movement from the Impersonator gets his full attention.

***

Kyungsoo meets them in front of the conference room. He looks annoyed at (fake) Jongdae, but opens the door nonetheless.

Jongdae enters first, followed by Junmyeon.

“We’re at war,” Queen Solar announces. A loud, collective gasp resounds the room. She sighs loudly, her body tense, eyes unsure of everyone in the room. “I received a message from the borders, and called everyone here right away.”

“How big is the army?” Ruler Wu asks.

“Do we get our weapons right now?” Someone else asks.

“Is Ripth—”

“Quiet! Please,” She adds weakly. Everyone in the room is standing, except for Queen Moon, Ruler Grey, and Ruler Boo. “My messenger says there is no leader in sight, they have yet to begin to march towards Ripth, but they’ve begun preparing for it. If that’s true, we have two and a half days to prepare for this.”

Junmyeon glances at the fake Jongdae. They can’t seem to hide their smirk, and lucky for them, nobody is paying attention to them — too caught up on Queen Solar.

“Where is it from?” Junmyeon asks. “Which direction?”

Queen Solar looks at Jongdae. “North.”

The room goes quiet. North of Ripth is Tigallop, Jongdae’s Kingdom.

“It’s not me,” The fake Jongdae frowns. “Did your messenger say anything about the army itself?”

She shakes her head, but her eyes remain on Jongdae, suspicious. “The uniforms were scattered.”

“Maybe there are two armies,” Ruler Wu pipes in. Everyone looks at him, while he stares at Jongdae and Junmyeon, his eyes narrowed. “Which explains the scattered uniforms.”

“Ruler Wu,” Junmyeon grits his teeth, truly offended. “Are you insinuating something?”

“Yes,” He doesn’t back down. He moves to the front, now towering everyone with his height. “You two,” He jabs a finger towards them. “Have been attached at the hip in the past few days. You can’t possibly tell me you’re  _ friends _ now.”

“We aren’t,” Junmyeon and (fake) Jongdae says simultaneously. Junmyeon raises his hand, steps forward. “We were here the whole time, right in front of your eyes. How could we possibly plan a war?”

“At night, of course,” Ruler Wu rolls his eyes. Junmyeon’s hands shake with anger. “We’ve noticed you meeting up at night. There are various rumours running around the castle about the two of you.”

Junmyeon looks at Jongin, who nods to confirm.

“I would never—” Junmyeon stops when he notices Queen Moon getting up from her seat.

“Please,” Queen Moon steps forward. Everyone goes quiet out of respect. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude here. King Junmyeon, King Jongdae, will you please step out? With your Aids. We’ll ask you to come back in a moment.”

If it weren’t for Queen Moon, Junmyeon would’ve drawn his sword. Four of them walk out, Junmyeon’s face burning from embarrassment. He pushes Jongdae against the wall when Jongin closes the door behind him.

“Did you signal them?” he asks. “I thought we were going to wait for the last day.”

The Impersonator gasps. “What?”

“We’ve been planning this together for four days,” Junmyeon frowns. “You should’ve told me you started our plan.”

“Oh,” he rolls his eyes, then grins. “I just thought it was time, you know? My army has been restless.”

Something feels terribly wrong. Junmyeon is sure something is wrong, but he can’t put a finger on it.

Kyungsoo makes a noise of distress. Everyone looks at him. “Why are you both acting like this?” He looks scared of the three of them. “King Jongdae hasn’t been himself last night, and now this? What is wrong with the both of you!”

Last night? Junmyeon blinks, looks at the Impersonator and his stupid grin. Jongdae is  _ missing, _ not replaced for a few moments.

“Where is Jongdae?” He presses his forearm against the Impersonator’s neck, shoving him further against the wall. “Who are you? Where is Jongdae?”

“Your Highness,” Kyungsoo grabs at his hand, panicked. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Fake Jongdae’s voice becomes high-pitched as he watches Jongin wrestle Kyungsoo away from Junmyeon. “I  _ am _ Jongdae.”

Junmyeon lets his wings out, pushes upwards with his forearm and lifts both of them off the ground. “Don’t lie to me now,” he growls. “I’ve entertained this enough. Tell me where he is before it’s too late.”

The Impersonator’s face is reddening, they claw at Junmyeon’s arm with no avail, gasping for breath.

“Come on,” Junmyeon presses harder. “I’m more than happy to choke you to death right now.”

They remain silent. Junmyeon summons water near the Impersonator’s face, about the size of their head. “I can and I  _ will _ force this water into your lungs if you don’t reveal yourself.”

The Impersonator’s skin bubbles like it’s boiling for a second, then it morphs into a face Junmyeon doesn’t recognize. He has a sharp nose and chin, a mole on his nose, soft features but sharp, half-lidded eyes. He smirks, even when he’s unable to breathe properly.

Junmyeon brings the both of them down, but keeps the man against the wall. “What’s your name?”

“Moon Seokwoon,” The man replies, his grin widens and it’s way too smug for a person who could die any moment. “I’m Queen Moon’s half-brother.”

“Where’s Jongdae?” Junmyeon doesn’t want to wonder about all of this. He needs to find Jongdae first, make sure he’s okay.

“Where do you think?” Seokwoon scoffs. “On his way to lead his army. He left last night.”

All the breath is knocked out of him, a wave of hurt washing over him. Junmyeon has to remind himself to  _ breathe. _ It would definitely make sense, if he thinks about it, but he thinks of every moment he’s spent with Jongdae in the past few days and convinces himself to stop thinking. The only reason Junmyeon continues to hold him against the wall with the water still floating near Seokwoon’s head, is because he can prove at least  _ his _ innocence, even if Jongdae played him like a puppet.

Seokwoon puffs out a laugh. “What? Don’t you trust my word on this?”

“Jongin,” Junmyeon glances over his shoulder. Jongin is coming towards him, Kyungsoo is curled up behind him, eyes wide in shock. “Suffocate him if he tries to run or change.”

He lets go of the man and walks to the room. He’s met with several scowls when he opens the door, but Junmyeon doesn’t mind them. “Queen Moon,” He calls. “I need you outside for a minute.”

Ruler Wu, of course, huffs. “What are you—”

“Ruler Wu,” Queen Moon snaps, her tone somehow still polite. “Please don’t forget you’re addressing a King, too.”

She comes out, her Aid at her heels, and gasps when she looks at the direction Junmyeon is looking.

“You,” she frowns. She turns to her Aid and asks her to get her husband. Then, she looks at Junmyeon. “Your Highness, I—”

“I believe you, Your Highness,” Junmyeon says. “He’s been going around impersonating everyone. Including Jongdae, since last night.”

Her lower lip quivers, she looks between her half-brother and Junmyeon, then grabs Junmyeon’s hands. “I’m so sorry for any trouble he’s caused you, Your Highness.”

“You don’t have to be,” Junmyeon sighs. “I have something else to do. Excuse me.”

He whispers to Jongin to follow Queen Moon’s directions, and pats Kyungsoo’s back on his way out.

***

Distraught is the most overwhelming emotion he feels. There’s a layer of confusion, hurt, worry, but all of those are overpowered by distress. He wants to drop to the ground and cry his eyes out, clear the cloud of confusion in his mind, stop hearing “Jongdae did this” with every step he takes because it  _ hurts. _

_ He did it before, he can do it now _ — one part of Junmyeon’s mind says, while the other says, “He can’t, Jongdae wouldn’t do this.” And there’s a small part of him which rolls its eyes at thinking anything. Jongdae has withdrawn from a plan before, he didn’t betray him —  _ use  _ him like this.

Junmyeon wants to stop feeling entirely until he’s found a safe place to cry, and scream, and maybe flood the place. He’s navigating the castle with shaky legs, avoiding looking at any guard or Helper that comes in front of him. Every place feels too foreign, too sterile to go and be emotional.

Someone walks past him with an armful of books, which makes him think of the library. The old one, the one he visited at the party. It’s quite far from where he is right now, but it should be safe enough — if he’s guessing right, nobody has visited the place after him and the Queen visited it that night. (He can only hope he’s right.)

***

Junmyeon steps into the old library with a wail, falls onto his knees, the door slamming close behind him.

He’s hurt, confused, some part of him feels betrayed, used, and— and he’s  _ angry _ at himself, Jongdae, Queen Moon, everyone. At the Universe, for whatever this stunt is.

The single window in the room doesn’t have much light coming through, the room remains a little dark, but it’s easier to see now than at night with the lamps lit. Junmyeon crawls across the room, snot collecting on his upper lip, mouth ever open as he cries and cries. He stops near the desk to catch his breath.

He wishes, prays, to the Universe to make this ache in his chest go away. He wants to reverse everything, return to his mother’s womb and never come out. It’s hard to understand why he’s so hurt, why this pain is greater than anything he’s felt before. Or maybe he’s forgotten what pain feels like. He really doesn’t know.

Something falls with a  _ thud _ behind him. Junmyeon stifles his cries and peaks past the desk.

There’s someone’s body, wearing just trousers and a blouse, their body wrapped in ropes, something in their mouth. Junmyeon can’t see their face from where he’s sitting, so he crawls closer.

“Jongdae?” He mutters to himself when he notices the high cheekbones. When he’s finally close, he starts crying again, tugging the piece of cloth out of Jongdae’s mouth. He pats Jongdae’s cheek, trying to get him to wake up.

When he tries to place Jongdae’s head in his lap, he feels something patchy against his hand. His hand comes out with spots of red from under Jongdae’s head.

It looks and smells like blood. Junmyeon puts a shaky finger near Jongdae’s nostrils, but he’s breathing too hard, his chest is aching too much, his ears are ringing too loud. He puts two fingers on his neck, his other hand against Jongdae’s neck. He tries his best to focus on his own accelerated pulse, tries to find Jongdae’s desperately.

It’s quiet in the room, Junmyeon’s breathing returning to normal thanks to focusing on his pulse. A moment after he’s calmed down, he feels Jongdae’s pulse under his fingertips. He slumps onto the floor, next to Jongdae, alleviated. He’s not dead, just knocked unconscious.

Junmyeon takes out his dagger to cut the ropes, then summons water the size of his fist and splashes it on Jongdae’s face.

Jongdae jolts, grabbing onto the floor, and gasps as he pushes himself up, eyes wide. His breaths are shallow as he takes in his surroundings, looking terrified. When he notices Junmyeon, he immediately drops onto Junmyeon’s body, hands on Junmyeon’s shoulders, head on his chest.

“Th-they were talking about killing someone,” Jongdae’s voice shakes. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Junmyeon wraps his arms around Jongdae, crying all over again, but it’s just tears for now. The feelings he felt before still linger in him, but he puts them aside to focus on Jongdae. “I was so worried,” Junmyeon sobs, a little glad Jongdae can’t see him cry like a baby. “You looked dead when I saw you. And there’s blood in your hair.”

They hold each other in silence, until both of them have stopped crying. Junmyeon thinks he’s still a little angry, a little upset, hurt, but at whom, he doesn’t know. He takes a deep breath when he’s feeling better. Jongdae is quiet too.

“Let’s get your wound looked at,” Junmyeon suggests. “It looks like you’ve bled a lot, can you get up? You need food.”

Jongdae hums. “I haven’t eaten since last evening.”

“Evening?” Junmyeon lifts his head to look down.

“Yeah,” Jongdae doesn’t move from his place. The light coming from the window shines on the blood stuck in Jongdae’s hair, Junmyeon gently lifts his hands and starts pressing around the blood. “What are you doing?” Jongdae chuckles.

“Trying to see how big the wound is,” Junmyeon replies, cracking a smile at the sound. “Get up, Jongdae, you need food, I need to catch you up with everything that’s happening.”

“Okay,” Jongdae rolls off of him carelessly, and Junmyeon panics, grabs the wounded head without thinking. It makes Jongdae laugh again. “What are you doing now?”

“You’ve hurt your head,” Junmyeon grumbles. “No wonder you’re acting mindless. Don’t do anything stupid, follow my directions.”

“Yessir,” Jongdae’s words slur, his eyes begin to close. “I’m sleepy.”

Junmyeon kneels next to him, frowning. “Don’t sleep now, we need to get—”

Jongdae falls asleep. Junmyeon sighs.

***

He splashes water on Jongdae’s face, watches him jolt awake and look around. They’re in a resting room, an Expert has taken care of the wound on his head. A Helper is next to Junmyeon, holding a tray with food.

“It’s food time,” Junmyeon takes the tray from her, asks her to leave. He places the tray in Jongdae’s lap when he sits up and leans against the wall behind him. “Eat.”

“There are nicer ways to wake me up,” Jongdae pouts. He has two rounds of yellow fabric around his head, keeping the medicine against his wound. “You don’t have to wake me up with panic.”

“I dropped you once when I was carrying you over here,” Junmyeon replies, his voice flat. “If falling down didn’t wake you up, I doubt anything  _ nice _ would’ve worked.”

Jongdae’s face becomes pink. He blinks at Junmyeon. “Really?”

“No, you fool,” Junmyeon rolls his eyes, laughing. “I just enjoy doing this to you.”

He summons little droplets of water that he throws on Jongdae’s face. Jongdae winces.

“Good,” He says instead of retaliating. “I was offended that you would drop me, when I deserved to be carried like a treasure.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Even Junmyeon’s smile is sarcastic. “I’ll carry you like you’re my spouse next time.”

It makes Jongdae laugh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Your Highness,” he teases. “I prefer to be courted before marriage.”

“Jongdae,” Junmyeon groans. He misses Seokwoon’s version of Jongdae for a split second, the one who was uncomfortable with intimate things. This Jongdae, however, enjoys making jokes about them, and Junmyeon is yet to decide if he likes it or not. “Just eat the food, please.”

He doesn’t ask Jongdae to stop making those jokes, though. Jongdae has been like this ever since he could read and make complex sentences. When they were ten years old, the concept of marriage still a little foreign because they refused to imagine their futures, Jongdae had said “I will shift my books and toys and classes here. So we can do everything together,” which had left a ten year old Junmyeon feeling like a blown-up balloon.

Watching Jongdae eat is a nice change. He doesn’t talk as much while eating, so Junmyeon enjoys the moment while it lasts.

“What happened?” he asks when Jongdae is half-way through the food. “How did you end up in that room?”

As expected, Jongdae points at his food, and goes back to eating.

“Do you want to hear what has been happening?” Junmyeon asks. He nods.

Junmyeon starts with the war, because that’s the most pressing issue. The other Rulers visited Jongdae when he was unconscious, and the Expert ordered everyone to not talk to him until he’s awake. They’re currently discussing what to do with Seokwoon, trying to get information out of him. According to Jongin, they haven’t been successful. Seokwoon claims to be working for a person he doesn’t know, has never met, knows nothing about the plans of.

“How does he look?” Jongdae interrupts him when he mentions Seokwoon’s name. “Does he look cunning? Sharp, almost. He has a long face.”

“Um,” Junmyeon hesitates. “I think? He has a mole on his nose. I wouldn’t call it a long face, but it’s triangular somehow?”

Jongdae frowns. “Our descriptions don’t match.”

“Don’t tell me we have another person to look for,” Junmyeon covers his face with his hands and groans. “Today has been enough.”

“Continue.” Jongdae resumes eating.

Now, Junmyeon tells him about Seokwoon coming to his room first thing in the morning, just like Jongdae did, then proceeds to tell him about the conference room. Jongdae doesn’t need to know how or why he said things to Seokwoon. He mentions Ruler Wu’s rudeness, Queen Moon, everyone looking at Seokwoon suspiciously. (He also speaks briefly about Seokwoon being banished from Feou for a crime.)

By the time Junmyeon boasts about how he made Seokwoon shift into his real self, Jongdae’s meal is over. He chuckles. “Lies. You wouldn’t know if it was his real self or not.”

Junmyeon glares at him.

“I’m not saying you didn’t do a good job,” Jongdae reaches his hand and holds Junmyeon’s, grinning. “I’m teasing.”

He pulls his hand away, frowning. It feels good to hear that. “I don’t need your approval. I  _ know _ I did a good job.”

***

They bring the group to Jongdae’s resting room instead of shifting him, the Expert advised against him moving anywhere. They still need to figure out what other injuries might be inflicted on him. The room doesn’t fit all of the Rulers and their Aids, so the Aids are asked to wait outside.

“I’m sorry for the trouble I caused you,” Queen Moon says when the Aids are leaving. “I’m ashamed.”

“Your Highness,” Jongdae smiles kindly at her. “You shouldn’t be ashamed, you haven’t caused this. Jongin told me Seokwoon was banished and removed from your family. He’s no longer your responsibility.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but the door of the room is closed and she just smiles back at Jongdae before turning towards Queen Solar.

“We hope for your quick recovery, King Jongdae.” She says. Her face has a constant frown. “What do we do about the army?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Ruler Wu raises his hand. “I think we should lie just like they did. We can pretend we have their Leader, threaten to kill the Leader if they don’t surrender.”

“A lot of time has passed since the morning,” Junmyeon snaps. “What if the leader has returned? This could backfire.”

“Then we attack,” Ruler Wu keeps his calm, doesn’t argue against Junmyeon. “We have enough army on our side, too, right? Ripth, after it’s gorgeous temples, is known for the army.”

Jongdae hums. “I agree with Ruler Wu. All of us are here, too. We’re equipped for combat, we can do it.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Junmyeon glares at him. Mostly for taking Ruler Wu’s side. “You’re advised to stay here until the Expert deems you fully recovered.”

“Okay.” Jongdae grins. Something tells Junmyeon he isn’t going to stay here and recover properly.

The room is silent for a beat, everyone considering the plan. Junmyeon doesn’t mind the attack part of it, but claiming to have their leader… He has a bad feeling about that.

“I have to agree with Ruler Wu here,” Queen Solar breaks the silence. “It’s not the safest of the options, but I think we have enough force to at least intimidate them into surrender. My guards in the castle are trained for war, too.”

Junmyeon looks at Queen Moon who is in deep thought, hoping that at least  _ she _ will say no. It’s reckless, they don’t even have a plan.

“Will we leave after making a plan?” she asks, looking at Queen Solar. “We don’t have much time on our hands.”

“The journey will take at least a day,” Ruler Wu says. “We can plan on our way, or when we stop to rest.”

“Your Highness,” Junmyeon, still looking at Queen Moon, clenches his fist, but hides it in his robes. “Isn’t it suspicious of Ruler Wu to be so ready with plans and answers?”

Queen Moon frowns. “Let’s refrain from pointing fingers, my dear.”

_ But he got to point fingers at me and Jongdae. _ Junmyeon swallows his words, nods, and looks at the bedding in front of him. While he’s staring at the bedding, listening to every Ruler weigh in their opinions (all of them are in favour of Ruler Wu), he thinks of what Seokwoon told him — the reason he felt way too many things.

“He,” Junmyeon looks at everyone, interrupting someone. He apologises to them, then continues. “Seokwoon. He told me Jongdae was on his way to lead his army. Could that mean something?”

“Who is missing here?” Queen Moon asks. “I hope you understand, I’m not pointing fingers here.”

“Nobody,” Queen Solar says after counting. “All the 25 of us are here.”

“Let’s disperse.” Queen Moon sighs. “We need to get ready for war, start a journey. Queen Solar, I hope we can trouble you for help with the journey.”

She shakes her head. “Please begin your personal preparations, I’ll send everything required soon.”

The Rulers begin to leave. Junmyeon looks at Jongdae, reaches for his hand and gives it a firm squeeze. “Come to me if you’re going to disobey.” And he leaves.

***

When they’re packing up the little weapons they have — daggers, two swords, list of spells Junmyeon doesn’t use frequently, things to assist him and strengthen his powers — Junmyeon tells Jongin they can expect the King of Tigallop joining them.

“But he’s injured,” Jongin doesn’t pause in his work. He glances at Junmyeon worriedly. “Will he be okay?”

“There’s no point in stopping him,” Junmyeon shrugs. He watches two wrapped bags of weapons float away and perch on the table. “I thought it’d be safer to keep him with us. He seemed fine during the meeting, but who knows?”

Jongin hums. “Will you be okay?”

“I don’t understand. Why would I invite him if I wouldn’t be okay?”

“What terms are you both on?” Jongin asks. “You look friendly, you’ve gotten closer because of that plan to catch Seokwoon. Will that continue? Are you both friends again?”

Junmyeon isn’t sure, to be honest. “King Jongdae has been friendly,” he muses, then laughs. “But then, it’s his head which is wounded.”

He thought it was funny, but Jongin doesn’t laugh, only hums and asks another question. “Would you consider him your friend?”

“I don’t know,” Junmyeon shrugs. “It’s on him, really.”

“Friendship works both ways,” Jongin rolls his eyes, grinning. “Just answer me, Your Highness.”

It’s easier said than done. “We’re interacting like we used to, before the fight,” is all he can say.

“So you’re friends again.”

“No need to put labels on what we are,” Junmyeon frowns. “How are you so chatty today, Jongin?”   


Jongin laughs at that. “You never wanted people to call Jongdae anything but your enemy before.”

“People change,” Junmyeon argues. He flushes down to his chest, thinking about how childish and embarrassing he used to be. “I’m not that childish anymore.”

“Does Kyungsoo know?” Jongin asks suddenly. “About King Jongdae coming with us? I’ll have to inform him.”

“I’ll go inform him.” Jongin leaves with that. Junmyeon tries to come up with a word for enemies who are close to each other. Like the saying that goes, “keep your friends close, enemies closer.”

***

Preparation for departure takes too long. The army has already been sent. Now, the castle is free of any guard, but Queen Solar assures everyone that her Helpers can help themselves if time ever comes. Not everyone is convinced, so Yongguk, Queen Moon’s husband, takes charge of protecting the castle and its Helpers. Ruler Boo casts two spells on the castle, and Junmyeon silently prays to the Universe for the castle’s safety.

The carriages are ready after sunset. Everyone carries their own weapons for the sake of safety, their weapons are put in the leg spacem once that is full, the back is filled. Junmyeon doesn’t have much, thankfully, everything fits in the space in the back. When he and Jongin come to his carriage, he finds Jongdae already inside, his hands pressed against the window. (Junmyeon gets a vision of Jongdae, twelve year old, teary eyed in the same position, waving at a twelve year old Junmyeon, who’s holding his tears back.) 

“Welcome,” Jongdae scoots to the other end of the carriage. Junmyeon climbs in first, followed by Jongin. “Are you excited?”

“We’re going to wage war,” Junmyeon deadpans. “How is that exciting?”

“A war is still just a possibility,” Jongdae tuts. “Don’t be so negative, Your Highness.”

He feels irked at those words. “This possible war is from your side of Ripth, have you forgotten? Stop looking so cheery.”

“I’m allowed to be cheery,” Jongdae scowls at him, his expression changes when he looks at Jongin. “Are you excited, Jongin?”

“I’m scared,” Jongin mutters, rubbing his palms together on his lap. “I don’t like not knowing what could happen.”

“Why are you excited?” Junmyeon butts in. They begin the journey, the carriages in front of them making noises. Their carriage shakes, begins to move. “You’re giving me the wrong impression, and if I didn’t know you better, I would think my assumption was true.”

Jongdae seems to finally realize. He sulks, leans back against the seat, and crosses his arms over his chest. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

Junmyeon waves dismissively. “But you haven’t answered me.”

“I was thinking of the time we shared a carriage,” Jongdae shrugs, still upset. “A year before the Ball, we got to share a carriage on our visit to Feou. I know times are different, but those memories got me excited.”

He remembers vibrating with excitement when his parents told him they were allowed to share a carriage this time, since both were growing boys now. They jumped on the seats for the first fifteen minutes, drank too much water and demanded the carriage to be stopped every few kilometers covered. Their parents had to threaten to pull them back into their own carriages, just to make them act more civil.

“We can’t do those things,” Junmyeon says, but he fails to stifle his laughter. It was fun with Jongdae, they were short enough to cuddle on the seat at night. Jongdae grins hearing the laughter. “It was fun.”

“It was amazing,” Jongae nods. The carriage stops, the driver tells them Queen Solar has stopped to pray at the temple. They hum in response. “I can’t stand inside carriages anymore, it’s upsetting.” Jongdae adds.

“Is that all that’s upsetting?” Junmyeon holds his fist out, begins to count on his fingers. “We don’t get to run around in gardens anymore, we can’t sit on stairwells and chat, we can’t hide away from responsibilities—”

“We can’t call court sessions boring,” Jongdae laughs. “I can’t use ‘I don’t like them’ as a reason for anything I did.”

Junmyeon nods. “But I don’t regret becoming a King.”

“You didn’t have a choice, you were the only child.” Jongdae teases. “But I don’t either. My brother is happy being a minister, and I get to spoil my nephew without his nagging.”

“Sleep,” Jongin whispers to Junmyeon, yawns a little. “Both of you need rest for the war.”

Jongdae nods, slumps his head towards his right, away from Junmyeon. “Good night, both of you.”

Junmyeon doesn’t fall asleep until after the carriage has started moving.

***

The carriage shakes violently, jolting Junmyeon awake. He realizes he’s clinging onto Jongdae: forehead against his neck, one hand on his shoulder, another tucked between their bodies, legs on his lap, staying comfortably against him because Jongdae’s arms keep him from falling down. Jongin is leaning against Junmyeon’s back, in a foetal position.

Jongdae’s head is thrown back, his mouth slightly agape. He snores ever so softly, his breathing calm. Junmyeon wants to shift his position, but the carriage is rocking them gently, the snoring is rhythmic, and Jongin’s warmth against his back lulls him back to sleep.

***

They’re very close to the border, just another night’s journey. They pause their journey when the sun is high, put up tents for food and to plan, take a break from moving, and let the drivers get some sleep.

When the Rulers are called to plan, Junmyeon stops Jongdae from leaving the tent. “They don’t know you’re here.”

“They should know,” Jongdae argues. “I want to help with the planning too. I know my borders the best, and I can gain their trust, so they don’t think  _ I _ have planned all of this.”

Most of the Rulers are displeased to find Jongdae behind him, but they don’t say anything because Queen Solar doesn’t. There is a wide, short table in the middle of the tent, with a large piece of paper on it. It has markings of the Ripth/Tigallop border, but it only contains Ripth’s defense and offense.

Queen Solar passes Jongdae a piece of coal. “Please show us everything,” she beckons him closer. “This has everything from Ripth.”

Jongdae diligently marks everything, which tells them what is new and what is old. It’s dangerous to reveal their broders like this, but Junmyeon has the utmost respect for the both of them — they’re revealing their secrets just to gain the trust of everyone in the room. In the future, if he ever hears that someone in this room attacked Ripth or Tigallop and conquered it, he’s never going to forgive them.

“There’s nothing physical which marks the transition from your border to mine,” Jongdae points at the circles he’s drawn. “These are old holes dug up by the oldest of Tigers in our kingdom, they no longer use them, so we’ve made them into traps.”

Everyone listens keenly, nodding along as Jongdae continues. “It’s best to stay away from these. They’re several feet deep, it’s difficult to pull anyone out. If Queen Solar’s messenger has guessed right, the army is still behind these holes.”

“It’s best to let them come here,” Jongdae points at the line drawn to separate Ripth and Tigallop. “This is a sandy area, it’ll be difficult for them to use their physical power.”

“It’ll be difficult for us too,” Queen Moon frowns. “To walk, or fight.”

“Few in this room can fly,” Jongdae replies. “A lot of us don’t use physical power, and I believe Ruler Wu is equipped for combat in sand.”

He nods. “I am, Your Majesty.”

“It shouldn’t be too much hassle.” Jongdae notes. “Besides, some of them will be trapped in the holes, that’s a big advantage.”

***

The journey continues, night falls, and Junmyeon looks out of the window, unable to sleep. He’s sitting on the far left of the carriage, Jongdae in the middle, Jongin near the door. Jongdae is sleeping with his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder, Jongin is in a foetal position again, leaning against Jongdae.

He can’t fall asleep. They will reach the spot of rest soon — in a few hours — and the moment the sky brightens they’ll approach the army ready to attack them. He’s worried for Jongin. Aids are supposed to be equipped for combat too, but he was overconfident in himself and deprived Jongin from learning combat skills. Now they’re going to a warzone zone, and Jongin’s skills are nowhere near enough to survive. He can only suffocate one person at a time, and he’s too kind to even suffocate anyone, let alone  _ kill _ them.

“Junmyeon,” Jongdae whispers sleepily. “We’ll be at war in a few hours, get some sleep. We don’t know when we’ll have a chance to sleep next.”

“Or we’ll just sleep forever there,” Junmyeon replies despite himself. He shouldn’t think about it, but he’s terrified. “I’m worried.” He confesses.

Jongdae moves his body closer to Junmyeon, rests his head on the seat, and holds Junmyeon’s hand. “About?”

“Jongin. He doesn’t have the skills to be coming with us like this. I was overconfident and I stopped him from learning combat,” He’s getting more and more anxious as he talks about it. “What if he gets attacked? He’s still mastering his powers, he won’t survive and I’ll have his blood on my hands.”

There’s silence, Jongdae takes his time in considering Junmyeon’s words and constructing a proper reply. Junmyeon leans against the corner of his seat, looks at Jongdae for answers. Jongdae, though, is looking at their hands.

“We can ask him to stay here,” he looks at Junmyeon, equally worried now. “Or send the carriage back with him. Or hide him somewhere? I don’t think the area has any place to hide, but we can figure out a way to hide him.”

He brings their hands up to his chest, pats the back of Junmyeon’s hand. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t get hurt, alright?”

“You can go back with him,” Junmyeon licks his dry lips, squeezes Jongdae’s hand.

“No.”

Junmyeon grabs Jongdae’s other hand, brings their hands to his chest and pleads. “Please, Jongdae. You’re injured too. You can’t be a part of the battle, and this plan works perfectly—”

“I’m going to be a part of it,” Jongdae snaps. “I’m almost fully recovered now, I appreciate your concern, but you don’t get to dictate what I do here.”

“You hurt your head, Jongdae,” Junmyeon is desperate, not just for Jongin’s safety. “What if you get dehydrated? Or get hit in the same spot again? We don’t know how long this will last.”

Jongdae doesn’t give it a single thought. “I hope you know we’re nearing my Kingdom, Junmyeon,” He says with a flat voice. “Some Rulers coming with us still think I’m behind this, and I need to figure out why nobody has notified me about a whole army settling at the borders, in my land. An army which isn’t mine.”

“But Jongin,” Junmyeon can’t think of anything else. “What about Jongin?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Jongdae reassures. “Get some sleep, maybe your mind will work better after some good rest. I  _ promise _ he’ll be fine.”

Last time Jongdae promised something, it broke their ten year old friendship.

***

Everything is more nerve-wracking because of the possibilities: 

  1. They could leave peacefully, have prisoners to question and know about. 
  2. There’s a battle, and they lose.
  3. There’s a battle and they win. 



Queen Solar’s messenger confirmed that the enemy is a lot bigger, even with the whole Ripth army, the Rulers and their Aids.

Why would such a humongous army surrender to them? Believe their words? Those questions only drain Junmyeon’s hopes, so he quiets his mind. He strides next to Jongdae, holding desperately onto his hand, praying for everyone’s safety.

They’re first in line, Ripth army behind them. It’s an ocean of people in armor and carrying weapons, ready to fight. In front of them are the Rulers, standing in a row, and Queen Solar a few steps in front of them. A horseman is beside her, waiting to relay her message to the enemy.

It’s exhilarating to be on the battlefield. He likes being here, wants to take down a few hundreds of people. But Jongin is constantly on his mind. They ended up making him stay in the carriage, and asked Ruler Boo to protect the carriage with a spell like they did with the castle. The carriages are stopped neatly in a row, far from the battlefield, but he’s at risk of being attacked nonetheless.

Jongdae tugs at his hand. “Focus.”

At a distance is the enemy. As far as Junmyeon can tell, none of them hold any weapons, which gives them an advantage. And there are the holes which Jongdae mentioned. 

The horseman takes the scroll from Queen Solar and crosses halfway. Nobody from the enemy’s side comes near him. They must not know it’s mandatory for both of the parties to meet halfway if it’s a peaceful message relay, which means none of them have been on the battlefield before.

The horseman’s mouth moves, probably asking one of them to come and take the message. The people in the first line huddle together, and one among them begins to walk towards the horseman. As this person walks closer and closer, his features become visible: he’s heavily built, his strides cocky. 

He falls into a hole before he can reach the horseman.

“A bait!” Someone on the enemy’s side roars. Junmyeon is stunned for a second. He couldn’t hear the horseman, who is closer compared to the enemies, but he heard  _ that. _

The mass of people begin running towards them.

***

Junmyeon is trained to kill with his swords and daggers, but the first line which attacks them is weaponless so he just injures them severely. As Jongdae had expected, a good number of them fall into those holes (nearly all of the first few lines) but the people behind them carry heavy weapons. They’re all handmade, as far as Junmyeon can tell.

He notices iron pieces indented into the wood they use. He fights, stabbing and slashing people who charge at him, trying to keep himself safe from their weapons.

Many run past him, and he keeps getting distracted by people who are behind him. Who are running towards the army, their tents,  _ Jongin. _

There are arrows and spears travelling through the sky, but they only come from their side. Noises of pain fill his ears as he attacks more people: some groan, some moan in agony, some fall on the ground and whisper things. Junmyeon is used to all of this, but what he doesn’t expect is the next line of enemies staying away from them.

He seems to be the first one to notice; he looks around, a bit confused, and notices Ruler Wu barely being attacked by anyone. Queen Solar and Ruler Boo near him are trying to fight two people at once and protect each other.

As everyone notices the lack of attack, they look confused too. Except Ruler Wu, who looks furious, and begins to walk towards the army behind him.

“We surrender,” One of them announces. They keep their weapons on the ground. “We can’t do this.”

Junmyeon runs to Jongdae, who is the farthest from him. Jongdae looks just as shocked as everyone, his bandage dusty. When he notices Junmyeon running towards him, he jogs nearer him too.

“Ruler Wu,” he pants. He should’ve used his wings instead of running. “I saw him.”

“Go get him,” Jongdae says. If it were anyone else, Junmyeon would’ve had to clarify that he thinks Ruler Wu is behind all of this. “I’ll handle it here.”

Junmyeon thinks he could kiss Jongdae right now, for understanding him so well. He lets his wings out of the robes and flies a little over a feet above the ground, squinting to look for Ruler Wu. He couldn’t have gotten far.

Sure enough, Ruler Wu is nearing the end of their army. He moves faster, trying to get closer to him without him noticing. Maybe the best choice will be to tackle him down, stop him from running away.

Ruler Wu looks behind him, unfortunately spots Junmyeon, and starts running faster. Junmyeon’s wings are beginning to tire, so he drops onto the ground and begins running too. Junmyeon is a little shorter than Ruler Wu, but he catches up somehow, his shallow breaths hurting his lungs.

He tackles Ruler Wu to the ground, every inch of him hurting. There are fresh wounds here and there from the battlefield, and now the running and flying is only adding to the pain. He remains on top of Ruler Wu, using the rest of his strength to keep him from running away again.

The soldiers must’ve noticed them. Some of them walk over to them, look at them curiously.

“Take him to the Queen,” Junmyeon breathes out. He’s having a difficult time getting his breathing back to normal. “Don’t let him run.”

They hesitate, looking at each other, worried they might get into trouble for this.

“It’s an order,” Junmyeon huffs. “Take him.”

He rolls from atop of Ruler Wu when the soldiers take a hold of him and pull him up. Junmyeon stays on the sand, trying to catch his breath. Someone offers a hand to him, but he swats it away. “Leave me be here.”

“Your Majesty—”

“Please,” He whines. “Let me be. I’m fine.”

***

He doesn’t move until he’s breathing properly again. His body feels like iron, something too heavy for him to lift. But Junmyeon pushes himself up. He knows in the back of his mind that nobody has probably reached him yet, but he needs to make sure. The war has been uncertain enough. He doesn’t need more uncertainty in his life at the moment.

His robes are dirty, he notices, even though he didn’t lay on the sand for a long time. His legs are shaking, the thought of collapsing on the sand again is tempting. But Jongin.

“Junmyeon!” Jongdae calls from a distance.

He turns around, finds Jongdae jogging towards him. Junmyeon cries out in relief, drops to his knees.

Jongdae helps him up, lets Junmyeon lean on him as they walk. 

“Are you okay?” He asks Jongdae, inspecting his body for any wounds. His clothes are torn here and there, but there’s no blood in sight.

“I’m fine, someone got my back, but it’s nothing serious.”

Junmyeon pauses, carefully brings Jongdae in front of him. There’s a three-inch cut on Jongdae’s shoulder blade, but it’s no longer bleeding. It looks pretty shallow too.

“Are you okay?” Jongdae asks, turning to see him. He doesn’t look too worried. “Let’s get to the tents, take some rest.”

“No,” Junmyeon puts arms on Jongdae’s shoulders. “Carry me. I want to check on Jongin.”

“I don’t think anyone went that far.” Jongdae holds him tightly when Junmyeon hops onto his back. 

“I want to be sure.” Junmyeon argues. 

Jongdae sighs in defeat.

***

Everyone decides that travelling back right away is the best idea. Junmyeon complains to Jongin about the decision throughout the journey, every minute he’s awake, and Jongin listens patiently (mostly because Junmyeon isn’t awake nearly long enough for the complaining to become annoying).

Two days and two nights of journey tires him so much. 

All of them are tired, of course (except Ruler Wu, he didn’t even fight much), so Junmyeon doesn’t demand to be carried inside the castle. But every step he takes sends jolts of ache throughout his lower body, his arms feel like iron even when they’re just by his side. He needs rest so bad.

***

Junmyeon is advised two days of bed rest, and Junmyeon sleeps through those days without eating, without being conscious of people tending to his wounds. He remembers being woken up to turn, lay on his stomach, so his wings can be treated, but that’s it. He sleeps the fatigue away, and on the third day, he finds Jongdae, Jongin, and Kyungsoo near his bed.

Kyungsoo is talking and the both of them are listening to him, grinning from ear to ear. He stops when he notices Junmyeon awake, and beams at him. “Hello, Your Majesty.”

Jongin puts a hand on his forehead, then grips his chin to inspect his face. “How are you?” He asks, worried. “I’ve never seen you sleep this much.”

“I’m so much better than a few days ago,” Junmyeon grins. He moves his limbs freely to demonstrate, almost too quickly because he expects them to be as heavy as they felt before. He turns his attention to Jongdae. “How are you feeling, Your Highness?”

“I was up and running by yesterday,” Jongdae says like recovery is a competition. “The Expert gave me an earful for leaving like that, but he looked glad nothing bad happened.”

Kyungsoo clicks his tongue, annoyed, but doesn’t say anything to Jongdae. He must be more frustrated, having someone else come and tell him that his King is joining the journey. An Aid’s pride is knowing every single minute where their Rulers are; Junmyeon hopes Kyungsoo gave him an earful too.

He sits up and leans his back against the wall behind him.

“You still look sick,” Jongin tells him. “I’ll go get the Expert.”

“I look sick?” Junmyeon asks when Jongin has left the room. Kyungsoo and Jongdae nod. He’s surprised.

“You had a fever yesterday,” Jongdae says. “A few of the Rulers were sick too, we don’t know what caused it yet.”

Junmyeon nods. His stomach growls embarrassingly loudly — he thinks it could’ve echoed if it was empty. It makes Jongdae laugh. “Hungry?”

“No I have a tiger in my stomach,” Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “What else would it be, Jongdae?”

Kyungsoo is smiling too, but he stops when Junmyeon looks at him. “I’ll bring you some food, Your Majesty.”

Jongdae tugs at his arm, whispers something in his ear. Kyungsoo frowns, says something back. Junmyeon is at a loss of words for how quiet these two can be when they want. He’s only arm’s length away, and he can hear just incoherent noises from the both of them.

“Please,” Jongdae says a little loudly. “Just this once. For me?”

His Aid is obviously controlling his urge to roll his eyes. “Fine,” He stomps his foot a little. “I hope you know I don’t get paid enough to put up with you, Your Highness.”

Junmyeon gapes at him. He doesn’t know Kyungsoo personally, but he’s never heard the Aid talk like this Jongin. He thought Jongin was the only one who talked to his King like that.

“He likes me,” Jongdae says when he notices Junmyeon’s mouth agape. “He’s still angry, that’s all.”

“I hope he got to yell at you,” Junmyeon glares. “Poor Kyungsoo. If you don’t increase his monthly payment, I’ll steal him from you, Jongin likes his company anyway. I could use two Aids.”

Jongdae raises an eyebrow. “We come together, Your Highness, is this your way of inviting me to your Kingdom?”

He flushes a little, eyes widening at those words. His reply is merely on instinct of being around Jongdae. “Maybe,” he mutters. “Depends on your reason for the visit.”

“Hm,” Jongdae pretends to wonder for a second, then beams at him. “How about to court somebody?”

Something uncomfortable pricks at Junmyeon’s chest. He ignores it, scowls at Jongdae. “Court someone? Then I don’t want you anywhere near my Kingdom.”

Jongdae pouts. “Why not? It’ll be fun!”

“I don’t want a headache in my Kingdom,” Junmyeon shrugs. “I need to have peace of mind somewhere.”

Kyungsoo enters with a tray of steaming food. He recognizes the smell instantly. It’s a soup unique to Xeria, the herbs used to make the soup cannot grow anywhere else, and it’s cultivated widely mostly because of its medicinal value. The herb is too bitter to be consumed raw, so they make a soup out of it.

“How did you get this?” he asks, but he’s too distracted by the soup. His mouth is watering at the sight of it.

“I was sick a few days before the Ball,” Jongdae says. “My mother has a bag of the herb left, from before we stopped our trades, and she asked Kyungsoo to keep some just in case I fall sick again.”

The soup is so much better than he remembers. He devours every single drop of it, pausing his movements to praise Kyungsoo for bringing him this. After the third compliment, Jongdae butts in. “ _ I  _ asked him to make this, where is my praise?”

“Bless you,” Junmyeon says with an unimpressed look. His demeanor breaks when Kyungsoo lets out a giggle. He laughs with the Aid, then pats Jongdae’s cheek. “Thank you for this, Jongdae, you’re an angel.”

Jongdae preens. “I am. You need to invite me, an angel, to your Kingdom.”

“Why are you so adamant about it?” Junmyeon scoffs, but the blow of his words and expression is softened by his smile. He can’t stop smiling because of the soup. “Who do you want to court, anyway? They must be special, if you’re practically begging me to invite you.”

“Nobody special,” Jongdae’s face flushes a little. “I’m just… I was thinking we should start trading again.”

Junmyeon’s mind screams  _ no _ first, then he realizes he really doesn’t mind. “It’s not the place to discuss trades.” he says.

“Is that a yes?” Jongdae smiles teasingly. “You’ll need a place to get textiles from, anyway. Ruler Wu is imprisoned here.”

“He really did this?” Junmyeon notices he’s halfway through the bowl of soup. “Kyungsoo, can I get more soup, please?”

“It’s not going to fill your stomach, Your Highness.” Kyungsoo replies. “I’ve asked the cook to make something heavy, it should be here in a few moments.”

Jongdae fills him up on what has happened. Ruler Wu had been giving refuge to people who were banished from their lands (which explains why Seokwoon was working for him), and when he realized there were enough of them to take over Ripth’s army, he asked them to fight.

“Nearly everyone seems to know combat,” Jongdae clarifies. “I understand why he’d think it was a good idea, but he forgot to consider that battlefield combat is different from one-on-one.”

Jongin walks in, dragging a furious-looking Expert behind him. “Check him, please,” he says, but his tone is commanding. “He still looks sick.”

The Expert grumbles something under his breath. He neutralizes his face when he notices two Kings in the room, then begins to inspect Junmyeon. He checks Junmyeon’s pulse first, then his temperature, then the condition his eyes and tongue are in.

“Are you having trouble eating?” he asks.

“No, I’m eating well,” Junmyeon replies. “Do you want to check my wings?”

The Expert nods. He passes the tray to Jongdae, turns around, and untucks his wings from under his robes.

“Refrain from tucking your wings inside,” He advises as he touches the wings. “The reason for their injury is how long they remain tucked under those heavy robes. They’ve become weak from the lack of use, you need to practice using them, Your Majesty.”

He nods, looking at his blanketed legs, embarrassed. He needs to practice flying? Something he used to take pride in for being the best?

“He’s fine,” The Expert snaps at Jongin. “Can I leave now?”

“Yes, thank you,” Jongin walks him out from the room, coming back looking sheepish. He rubs his nape, sits on the edge of Junmyeon’s bed. “He just wouldn’t come with me for some reason.”

Junmyeon has a lot of retorts for those words, but lets this one slide and continues eating. Jongin takes a closer look at the bowl, then gasps. “It’s our soup!”

“Kyungsoo had some herbs with him.” Junmyeon replies, he takes the tray back from Jongdae and nods at him. “Continue.”

Ruler Wu currently remains imprisoned, his son Yifan has been notified about it. Qaco is currently without their Ruler, and they’re yet to decide what to do with the refugees. They were banished from their lands, but they’re still living beings. And they were more or less forced to stand on the battlefield.

“Yifan,” Junmyeon tries to remember the child’s face, but all of them look the same to him. “Do you think Ruler Wu purposefully didn’t bring him to this Ball? He’s the only one in our generation with a child.”

Jongdae looks skeptical of the idea. “Or he led the refugees to Tigallop.”

“He’s too young for that, he’s only around thirteen, I think.” He looks at Jongin for confirmation, but he gets a shrug in response. “I refuse to believe a child would do that.”

“Think about it,” Jongdae leans forward. “I’m pretty sure the soldiers at the border were bribed, and even if the whole group  _ did _ have so much money, they would definitely be suspicious of such a large group. Unless they had someone they knew is usually welcomed. Or visits often.”

Junmyeon doesn’t like the idea of it. “But he’s young.”

“We were only fifteen,” Jongdae argues. “We planned taking over seven reigns at that age; helping our fathers with some schemes is easier than that.”

“But he’s not fifteen yet,” Junmyeon doesn’t know why he’s defending a boy whose face he’s struggling to remember. “Give him the benefit of doubt, Jongdae.”

“You know well those ages are basically the same thing,” Jongdae is furious now. “Why are you defending the boy?”

“I don’t know!” Junmyeon grips his spoon tighter, tries to finish the soup, but he lowers the spoon before it reaches his lips. “I was falsely accused not long ago. We were accused of being behind all of this, I think it’s fair of me to show some compassion towards the boy.”

“But you couldn’t understand when  _ I _ wanted to stay with my Kingdom,” Jongdae mutters, scowling at Junmyeon’s legs. “You had no compassion for me, but you have for a boy you don’t even know.

“I was fifteen,” Junmyeon is on the verge of throwing the bowl away, smashing the tray on his lap. “I didn’t know any better.”

“We were nineteen when the trading stopped,” Jongdae says, gritting his teeth. His hands clenching into fists. “Did you still not know any better?”

Junmyeon’s anger dissipates. He remains quiet, sips the soup while Jongdae continues. “I agree that I said some hurtful things—”

“You said you hoped I would never become a King,” Junmyeon snaps. “That I’m not worth the throne.”

Jongdae scoffs. “You called me a coward for wanting to stay with my Kingdom. I’m not going to list out every other insult your filthy mouth came up with, but you did too.”

“What about it, then?” Junmyeon can’t help but ask. This is so much like their first fight, the only thing missing is Jongdae tearing their planning apart with his hands. He notices Jongin and Kyungsoo are no longer in the room. He puts the tray aside, puts his legs down, turning his back towards Jongdae.

The reasonable side of Junmyeon’s mind is screaming at him to apologize. This can go on until they die, maybe even continue into their next generation. But Junmyeon is hesitant. What will he apologize for? There’s just too much accumulated right now, and he isn’t sure if any of those apologies will be heartfelt.

“I’m sorry I broke our pact,” Jongdae’s voice is defeated. “I was thinking about it all night, I was excited, but I thought of how much my mother cried when my sister was married. She lives in the Kingdom, and it still broke her heart. I didn’t want to cause her pain again.”

“You could’ve told me.” Junmyeon mutters.

“I thought you’d understand,” Jongdae sighs. “We’ve always understood each other deeply, I thought I wouldn’t need to explain it.”

Junmyeon understands. He really does. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, slowly turns to face Jongdae. He crosses his legs on the bed. He doesn’t know what he’s sorry for, to be honest. “For everything. I’m sorry too.”

Jongdae sits on the bed, legs crossed, a little space between their legs. It feels like they’re back at the dimly lit library, sitting in the gap. A piece of paper between them and two passionate hearts are missing. But it’s similar in too many ways. Junmyeon’s heart is pounding against his chest, just like it had back then.

He thinks he loved Jongdae back then. As a friend or more than a friend, he isn’t sure, but Junmyeon is sure now what he felt back then is  _ love. _

“I forgive you,” Jongdae says. Junmyeon refuses to look at him. He isn’t ready to face him yet. “For everything.”

It’s difficult to form words. Junmyeon wants to hold onto Jongdae’s hand like he did at the battlefield, instead of staring at them like this.

“Do you forgive me, Junmyeon?”

“Yes,” Junmyeon mutters. He glances at Jongdae and his body is filled with so many feelings, he’ll burst like a bubble if it continues. He takes a deep breath, trying to supress the overwhelming feelings. “I think I loved you, back then. Maybe that’s why I was so hurt.”

The confession seems to have caught Jongdae off guard. His hands freeze for a moment, then move to cup Junmyeon’s cheeks.

Junmyeon almost forgets breathing. Jongdae’s hands are cold against his cheeks, but he’s sure it’s because of how red his face must’ve become. His face is tilted up, making him look at Jongdae, and Junmyeon squirms, trying to look away from such  _ fond _ eyes.

It feels like he’s at the battleground once again, but without the threat of dying.

Jongdae’s left hand snakes to Junmyeon’s nape, making him shiver lightly.

“Can I kiss you?”

Junmyeon can’t feel his legs anymore. He steals a glance of those fond eyes once again, and nods. Jongdae pulls him in, making him squeak a little, but it’s lost against Jongdae’s lips. It feels like stripping down and standing naked, open for scrutiny. But there’s no scrutiny, nothing but tender lips, carefully navigating boundaries.

He holds onto Jongdae’s hands, trying to pull them away from his body and lace their fingers together, but it only prompts Jongdae’s hands to move lower. Junmyeon is uncharacteristically shy kissing Jongdae like this. 

Jongdae’s hand is pressing against his chest, and Junmyeon, suddenly desperate, wraps his arms around Jongdae’s neck and pulls him closer. He wants to be pressed against Jongdae, kiss him deeper, feel this wonderful feeling more and for longer.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jongdae mutters when they pull apart, breathless.

“I think you’re doing it right.” Junmyeon kisses him again.

***

They’re called to discuss the refugee situation, Jongdae and Junmyeon disagree during the meeting too, but there’s no tension between them. They’re taken to different parts of the castle by their Aids, to check up on packing to go back to their respective Kingdoms.

Junmyeon hasn’t told Jongin yet, he doesn’t know if he should. He lays on his bed, sleepless, unable to stop his mind from wandering to Jongdae. It’s too predictable, like every romance story he’s ever learnt to please his acting teacher. ‘I lose my sleep because of you’ of some kind. He hates feeling like this, his ego is hurt just a little. He boasted around in front of everyone, telling them he wouldn’t lose his sleep over something trivial.

Now, he’s tossing and turning in his bed, trying to have some self-control. He would really love to go to Jongdae’s room and kiss him again. Keep kissing him forever.

***

Junmyeon is struggling to keep his eyes open in the morning. He is more sleepy after washing up, the new set of robes are heavy, tempting him to go back to bed and get some sleep. They’re on their way to the court when Junmyeon decides he needs a nap.

He turns around, starts walking towards his room.

“Where are you going?” Jongin calls after him, holds his robes to prevent him from walking. “There’s court for the refugees today.”

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Junmyeon shrugs. “I’m going to take a nap, tell Queen Solar I’m feeling weak.”

Jongin probably won’t use that excuse, and will come up with something a lot better. “I’m going to wake you after the court,” Jongin lets his robe go. “We need to bid her goodbye and begin our journey back to Xeria.”

***

He lays on his stomach and remembers to let his wings out. There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.” He hums, burrows his face into the pillow.

“Hey,” It’s Jongdae, he sounds amused. “Both of us are skipping court today. I wonder if anyone finds this suspicious.”

Junmyeon turns his head to look at him. He looks fresh, not sleep deprived at all. He sits on the bed with Junmyeon, starts caressing the wings absently.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Junmyeon says. Considering how desperate he was, he’s surprisingly calm now that Jongdae is here, giving him an opportunity to kiss again. “But you look well-rested, why are you skipping it?”

“You’re leaving before me,” Jongdae shrugs. “I wanted to see you before you and Jongin leave.”

“When are you leaving?” Junmyeon sits up on his knees, Jongdae in front of him.

“Tonight,” Jongdae moves further on the bed, and crosses his legs. “I’m aware you’ll bid everyone goodbye, not just Queen Solar, but I,” His ears become red. “I wanted to be the first one.”

Junmyeon stares at his smiling face for a moment. “Come to Xeria with me.”

“Now?” Jongdae’s smile doesn’t falter a bit. He moves closer, slots their hands together. “I’ve got some affairs to take care of, Junmyeon.”

“I’m inviting you,” Junmyeon squeezes their hands. “Visit me whenever you can.”

He can almost see the questions running through Jongdae’s mind. “I kept thinking about kissing you last night,” He confesses, blushing mostly because of the embarrassment. “And I… I think it’ll be nice to have you there.”

“I wouldn’t be a headache?” Jongdae teases.

“I’ll get myself painkillers for the headache,” Junmyeon teases right back, grinning. “Besides, I have a way to shut you up now.”

Jongdae’s face becomes red, but he rolls his eyes. “It won’t work.”

“Really?” Junmyeon moves closer, leans in, his lips hovering near Jongdae’s. He’s only teasing, of course, but now that Jongdae is so close, mere inches away, Junmyeon feels the urge to kiss him again.

He kisses Jongdae’s lips and feels  _ full _ in his chest. It’s a nice feeling, he brings their hands up and gently nudges Jongdae to lay on the bed. The angle is so much better with Junmyeon straddling his stomach. He hopes the court doesn’t end, Jongin doesn’t come to his room, the time doesn’t move forward so he can stay like this.

Kissing Jongdae feels great, his chest exploding like fireworks. They seperate to catch their breaths, and Junmyeon thinks he might be in love or something.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Junmyeon whispers. “If you don’t show up, I’ll definitely attack your Kingdom.”

“Is that a threat?” Jongdae giggles. He presses their lips together once more.

***

The carriage starts moving and Junmyeon can’t stop staring at Jongdae’s retreating figure. He leans back on his seat when he disappears, and he finds Jongin staring at him with a grin.

“Are you and King Jongdae finally friends?”

“I think so,” Junmyeon looks out of the window, away from Jongin so he doesn’t catch the blush creeping on his face. “I wouldn’t say it’s fully a friendship, though.”


End file.
